Page 39 of 3rd Tango
15
Charlie
“Why are you there?” I ask as I pull out of the Valley View Golf Course. I put the AC on full blast and tug my blouse from my sweating chest. My lunch meeting with Mike Grenado, Al’s former partner, was a bust.
“It’s Matt’s fault,” Meg says, and I hear the tone of an inside joke. “You really should’ve stuck to your guns and fired him last night. Yes, Mom met Al. You were right about that, but I have no idea what they’re doing. We got a little…sidetracked.”
“Do you need a lawyer?” Adjusting my vents, I take the long drive to leave the golf grounds, passing a few of the diehards ignoring the heat. I merge into traffic, thankful for my Bluetooth. “Are you at the downtown station? I’m on my way.”
“I think we’re good. There’s a little problem with fake IDs but I called JJ and he’s on it.”
“You did what?”
“I’ll explain later. I need you to go to my desk and get my sketchbook. Inside is a list of criminals. Search for the name Christopher Svenson.”
“Who’s he?”
“Career criminal on that list we researched. He had a girlfriend he traveled with. I think her name was Evelyn.”
“Like the woman on the painting?”
“Yep. Do you see the sketchbook?”
It’s a stretch to assume the woman in the portrait is the same one on a most wanted list from twenty-plus years ago. I put on my signal to merge into the traffic and accelerate. “I played phone tag all morning with Al’s partner, and he finally left a message to meet him at the Valley View Golf Course pavilion for lunch. He lives on the course apparently, but he never showed. I’m on my way back to the office now.”
“Did you go to his house? Ask around if he was out on the greens?”
“Check and check. He wasn’t home, or he was avoiding me, and no one’s seen him. I think the asshole stood me up.”
“Oh, here’s Matt. I gotta run. I’ll meet you back at the office.”
I beat her there, and Haley and I tackle her workspace. Yes, it takes two because my sister is no neat freak. There are art supplies, files, and books everywhere. She has sticky notes all over her laptop, and an assortment of tote bags and clothes slung over various pieces of furniture.
Today, Haley has an interesting combo of pink and purple in her hair, and she’s not the brightest thing in the room. My sister loves art of all kinds and there are bold canvases on the walls, along with statues and other pieces from multiple countries amongst the shelves and tops of cabinets.
“Do you know what her sketchbook looks like?” I ask Haley, feeling slightly guilty for not paying more attention when Meg has it out.
Haley shuffles a stack of books aside . “She has, like, three. Do you know which she’s referring to?”
In all honestly, she probably has more than that. “The one she’s been using this week. Does that help?”
Haley nods. Her unicorn hair falls over her shoulders as she shifts a day calendar to the side. “The green. Here it is.”
She hands it to me and I see it’s stuffed with papers. “Thanks. I’d be lost without you.”
The phone rings in the outer room and she searches a moment for Meg’s desk phone, but doesn’t find it, and takes off at a run. I flip through the book, hearing her answer the call at her own desk.
The usual drawings of nature, an age progression of herself, and…wait, what’s this?
Jerome.
She’s done a series of portraits. His left side, front, right, the back of his head, neck, and shoulders. She’s caught him looking down, laughing, staring into space.
So damn good. While her office looks like a bomb went off in it, the sketches are neat, clear, precise. Like the woman herself, her art is unique. Jerome appears as though he might come to life on the page.
I’ve always envied Meg’s gift. I love how vibrant her inner world is, and I’m thankful she’s added so much color to my outer one.
I flip until I find the list of names she wrote out by hand, along with their status. Evelyn Jacoby. Girlfriend of Sven, one of the London Fog bank robbers. Aliases: Eve Jacobs; Lyn Jacobs; Lyn Jacobi.
