Page 52 of Line of Sight

Matt gestured to the couch. “Let’s sit. I’ve got a better chance of seeing Liam coming when he wants a rematch.” They sat, and Gary leaned back, his glass in his hand, studying Matt. He was taller than Dan, with the same shade of brown hair and eyes that always seemed to hold amusement.

“I’m curious. How do you usually work? From sittings? Photos?” The only artist Gary had ever come across had been a murder victim, and she’d worked from photos.

“Usually sittings. Most of the time they come to my studio.”

Dan smiled. “Otherwise known as the top floor of their house. Lots of natural light. He can hear the ocean while he paints.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “There’s a reason it’s called Ocean Boulevard. And sometimes I go to them, if they insist. Take the portrait I’m working on at the moment. The guy lives in Massachusetts, about an hour’s drive from my place. Fantastic property.”

“So what’s the process with him?” Gary found it fascinating. He wasn’t sure there was a creative bone in his body.

“I spent one session nailing his features. Not literally of course,” Matt said with a chuckle. “The underpainting is done in monochrome, and then I start adding thin layers of color. I work in oils.”

“And how long will it take you to finish it?”

“I should be done by February.” He grinned. “And then it’ll be on to the next one.”

“Oh no it won’t,” Nicole yelled from the kitchen. “The only thingyou’llbe painting in March is our child’s bedroom. I want unicorns, rainbows, and fluffy cute animals on every wall. Think you can manage that, Rembrandt?”

Matt winked at them. “Unicorns? Really? AndRembrandt? Couldn’t you have chosen Sargent? Or Warhol?”

“He was the most famous artist I could think of. You gonna argue with that? And when you’re not painting cute little bunnies, you’ll be painting my toenails.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?” Dan murmured.

“Absolutely not,” Matt whispered. “But don’t tell Nicole that.” He got up. “And speaking of Nicole, I’m going to make sure she has her feet up.” He patted Gary on the arm. “So happy to meet you.”

“You too.” Gary waited until they were alone before putting his arm around Dan and pulling him closer. “I love your family.”

Dan turned his head toward Gary and kissed him. “I think they’re going to love you too.” He cupped Gary’s cheek. “Now do me a favor? Turn your brain off for a while? I know that’s easier said than done, but try, for me?”

Gary chuckled. “You’re right. Itiseasier said than done. For the first time, we’re close to uncovering Brad’s killer, and part of me doesn’t want to rest until we’ve done that. But I will try,” he added.

Two days away. Nothing’s going to happen in two days.

He hoped.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Thursday, December 27, 2018

Mount Auburn Chapel

IT WASDan’s second funeral in this particular chapel, and also the second where Gary shared a connection with the deceased. Once again every seat was occupied, and mourners filled all the available space.

Sean must have been a popular guy.Except he already knew that: He’d seen the evidence at the charity ball.

He glanced at his fellow mourners and stilled when he saw some familiar faces. “Well, well, well. Look who came to pay their respects.”

Three mourners whose photos were currently attached to the whiteboard in their office.

Greg Collins was about three rows from the back of the chapel, dressed in black. His attention was focused on his phone, however. On the row in front of him was Amy Walsh, her face partially hidden beneath a wide-brimmed black hat. Behind Greg sat Senator Kelly, who appeared uncomfortable. He shifted constantly in his seat, his face tight.

No sign of Jennifer Sullivan.

Then Greg glanced up from his phone and caught sight of Dan. He froze.

Dan gave him a polite smile, and Greg responded with a brisk nod before returning to his phone.