“You know who painted that forgery?” Manny leaned towards Colin.
“I think I do. Give me the painting to confirm.” He held up his hand to prevent Manny from talking. “Then give me some time to track the guy down.”
“I want a name, Frey.”
“Not until I know for sure it’s his work.” Colin’s lips thinned.
They stared at each other for thirteen seconds before Manny nodded once, then looked at me. “Do you need more time in here, Doc?”
“No.” I shook my head and found it difficult to stop. The sadness and depravity of what had happened here was overwhelming. “I want to leave.”
“We’ll get the crime scene guys here and bring the glasses over as soon as we can.” Daniel took his phone from his trouser pocket and swiped the screen.
“And the painting,” Colin said.
Pink nodded. “I’ll scan the room, log everything and bring the glasses and painting over.”
Manny lifted his phone to look at the screen. “No. Pink, you finish up here and go home. It’s past six already. The painting and glasses can wait until morning.” He turned to Vinnie. “I’m hungry.”
Vinnie snorted. “And that’s my problem how?”
“We’ll see you at our place, Millard.” Colin smiled when Vinnie raised both eyebrows. “I saw you prepare the curry this morning. There’s enough to feed the entire neighbourhood and one grumpy old man.”
“Fine.” Vinnie turned towards the door. “But don’t let Franny take too long to shut down her computers. I’m not waiting forever to serve dinner.”
Colin looked at Daniel. “Join us?”
“I’ll help Pink process the scene and get things to the lab.” He smiled. “And the painting to the team room. But then I’m going home.”
Chapter THREE
“There’s enough food here to feed Daniel’s whole team as well.” Vinnie nodded towards the two large pots on the stove and smiled at Phillip. “Stay for dinner. Your share won’t even make a difference to the leftovers.”
I closed my bedroom door behind me and walked to the sitting area of my apartment. The smell of a curry dish filled the open space. Colin was sitting on one of the two large white sofas, Phillip on the other. I glanced around as I walked to join them. There was no one else in our apartment and for the moment, I appreciated the relative quiet.
“Genevieve.” Phillip straightened and stared at me. “How are you?”
I sat down next to Colin and wiped my hands on my denim-clad thighs. “Disturbed by what I saw this afternoon.”
Phillip’s depressor anguli oris muscles pulled the corners of his mouth down. “Colin told me what was done to Jace. It’s unimaginable.”
That was the reason why I’d rushed into my bedroom and had a much longer than usual shower as soon as we’d arrived home. It had taken mentally writing the entire first movement of Mozart’s Symphony No.41 in C before the warning signs of a shutdown had dissipated. My concerns hadn’t disappeared though. “How is Caelan?”
“Not good.” Phillip sighed. “We made it to my office before he had a bad shutdown. Fortunately, Francine was there to help me.”
“She’s good with him.” Colin took my hand and interlaced our fingers. “She’s had a soft spot for him from the day he asked... no, begged her to be his girlfriend.”
“Hah!” Vinnie set the last place at the table and nodded in approval before looking at us. “I remember that. He asked and asked and asked. He was such an annoying little shit then.”
“He’s changed a lot,” Colin said.
“Most likely because he’s had people who took an interest in him for the first time in his life.” Vinnie walked back to the kitchen and transferred the curry and rice to large serving dishes. “Franny reckons it’s because he’s studying and now is more focused.”
We’d had this discussion a few times in the past. In my opinion, it wasn’t just one thing or person that was helping Caelan function better in society and in life. It was his studies, his professors, Francine helping him with his social skills and Manny’s strict and impatient guidance. I didn’t know how large my contribution was. I met him only once a month for a game of chess during which we sometimes discussed different ways of coping with a non-neurotypical mind in a neurotypical world. Other times I avoided him.
“Where is Caelan now?” I asked.
“Manny and Francine took him to his flat.” Phillip pulled at the sleeves of his bespoke suit. “He wanted to go back to his safe space and have his nightly routine.”
“It will settle him.” I should know. Whenever my daily routines were disrupted, it left me unsettled and made it even more difficult to deal with usual challenges, not to mention exceptional challenges. Such as the murder of a young man.
The sound of keys in the lock drew my attention to the front door just as it opened. “Honey, I’m home!”
“Hey, little punk.” Vinnie walked over to Nikki and took her one-year-old son from her arms. “Hey, tiny punk. Let’s get you out of your Eskimo gear.”
Nikki shrugged out of her coat and tossed it over her coat tree. I sighed. In the four years Nikki had stayed with us after her father had died, she’d matured a lot. But she’d not become much neater. Last winter I’d reached my limit and had insisted on her having her own coat tree. Fifty centimetres away from mine. That way her layers of coats, colourful scarves and hats didn’t touch my coats neatly hanging on hangers or my folded scarves. It hadn’t been a week before everyone but Colin had started sharing Nikki’s coat tree. They’d said it was ‘easier’. I shuddered just looking at the chaos on that tree as Nikki threw her purple scarf on top of the pile.
“Doc G! You won’t believe what I bought today.” She rushed over to the sofa and flopped down next to me. “A handbag organiser.”
I leaned away from her and raised one eyebrow. “And you think that is going to help?”
Vinnie burst out laughing and handed Eric to Nikki before heading back to the kitchen.
Nikki continued to explain how this organiser would help her find her keys and pens the moment she opened her oversized canvas bag. I strongly doubted her bag would stay organised longer than a few minutes after she’d put that silly purchase to use. Nikki was notoriously messy.
Eric wiggled from her lap and balanced himself on two unsteady legs, his hands gripping the back of the sofa. Two weeks ago, he’d taken his first steps with the help of the furniture. The books I’d been reading classified Eric’s development as within the norm, but a bit quicker than most. I’d vowed not to mention this again after everyone took credit for Eric’s fast development when I’d quoted the statistics last week.
“I’m going to wash up.” Nikki jumped up and walked to the side of the apartment she shared with Vinnie and Pink. “Hurry up with the food, big punk. I’m starving.”
Vinnie moved as if he was going to chase her and Nikki ran the rest of the way, giggling. He returned to the kitchen and took a salad from the fridge. “Two more minutes and everything will be on the table. And then I’m not waiting for the old man and Franny anymore.”
Eric turned around and sat down heavily next to me on the sofa. He looked at me, a smile lifting his little cheeks when he saw me looking at him. He glanced down at the space separating us and shifted closer until he sat flush against me.