Page 63 of 3rd Tango
In minutes, my basic outline is complete. I check the hair. Platinum blonde. I rough in the hairline, giving my subject long silky strands similar to the photo.
I should hand these to Jerome. Let him do this. He’s not as advanced in age progressions, but he’d have no preconceived ideas of where he might be headed. I’m impatient though and refuse to waste time driving. Instead, I force myself to put Marie’s face from my mind.
On the page, I add lines across the forehead then sketch in crow’s feet and a few more subtle wrinkles here and there. Bags under the eyes wouldn’t be out of the question. I add them. Not too heavy, just a bit.
With age, a woman’s skin loses its elasticity, causing thin lines. Muscle flexibility also decreases leading to drooping jowls. In extreme cases, it appears taut over bone. Marie isn’t that old so I simply trim the cheeks, sharpening the edges.
Now the mouth. I rough in vertical lines above the top lip, then a few more crescent ones at the corners and a bit of sagging.
I tweak the lips, giving them less volume, then tweak some more, erasing and redrawing.
Erase.
Draw.
Erase.
Draw.
I lose myself in the process, allowing my instincts to guide me. I can’t unsee Marie, but I have the photos of Mary to work with so I keep at it, sneaking peeks while I add fine details.
I finally set my sketchpad down and check the clock. I’ve been at it over an hour, but something is missing. The mouth. What is it? Come on, come on.
I go back to the photos. Concentrate on Mary’s. In the third picture, she smiles wide and…bam. There it is.
Dimple.
Left cheek.
I add it and set my pencil down again. Beside my sketchpad. Where Marie’s face stares back at me.
23
Charlie
The heat is in the normal July range as I pull into the front lot. I’m driving a loaner my insurance company provided and it’s a far cry from my beautiful BMW.
I feel lighter this morning, grateful that Meg and Matt went to do the interview with Eric, along with Taylor and Lind. I haven’t heard from either of them yet.
Haley buzzes me in and I’m surprised to find a man in one of the chairs near the window. He rockets to his feet, shorter than I am, thanks to my heels. His hair is white-blond and his skin tan, I’m guessing from many days on the golf course. He introduces himself and offers his hand. Al’s former partner.
I shake and accept several message slips from Haley. Mike Grenado checks me over, pausing on my stitches and partial black eye. “What’s the other guy look like?” he teases.
His smile shows a set of perfectly white teeth, though I sense he’s uneasy being here. “When I catch him,” I say, watching his face carefully, “he’ll be worse than this, I guarantee.”
He chuckles nervously. “I wanted to personally apologize for standing you up.” He points at his mouth. “A broken tooth sent me for an emergency visit to the dentist. I meant to stop by afterwards, but the pain meds made me woozy.”
I don’t believe him, but I also don’t know him, so I give him the benefit of the doubt. “Come back to my office. Haley, would you get Mr. Grenado some coffee, or perhaps he’d like water?”
She starts to rise, but he puts out a hand. “Don’t bother. I’m on my way to another appointment.” He winks at our receptionist then smiles at me. “I just wanted to reiterate that Al’s a great guy. That’s what you were wanting to know, isn’t it? Is he trying to get a job or something with you?”
“What makes you think that?”
A lift and fall of his shoulders. “You’re a PI, former Bureau, right? Saw you and your sister on the news. Figured he’s looking for work.”
“Was he a good partner?”
His lips thin. “Absolutely. The best. Once he’s on your side, he’ll do anything for you. A real team player.”
