“In other words, you don’t have anything against passion, either?” he asked.
“Not as long as the only people who are put in harm’s way are the two who decide to light the fire. It’s not right to burn innocent third parties, though.”
“Agreed,” he said.
Okay, that sounded like progress, he decided. He tried to think positive. There were no innocent third parties involved here, just a hired killer and the client who had paid him to murder Vivian. No relationship was perfect.
Vivian went back to examining the photograph in the window. The small sign in front of the picture read, FEATURING NEW IMAGES BY WINSTON BANCROFT. The scene was an artfully posed close-up of a female nude framed by a window and set against a backdrop of a vast, abstract desert. Considering the subject matter, it struck Nick as oddly lacking in genuine sensuality.
“What was the name of the artist?” he asked. “The one with whom you had the scandalous affair?”
Vivian flashed him a sly, amused smile. “Winston Bancroft.”
“I was afraid that would be your answer. If you ask me, Bancroft doesn’t just disapprove of female photographers. He doesn’t like women.”
Vivian turned quickly, eyes tightening a little at the corners. “What makes you say that?”
Nick shrugged. “Something about that picture. It’s cold. Lifeless. He might as well have been photographing a robot.”
Vivian gave him a brilliant smile. “It strikes me the same way. It’s as if Bancroft deliberately composed the pictures to make the viewer regard the subject as an object, not a human being.”
“Your pictures are a lot more interesting because you make your subjects appear mysterious, as if they’re hiding secrets.”
“Thanks,” Vivian said. “I appreciate the kind words, believe me. But I have to face facts. Bancroft is the one who has his photograph in the gallery window.”
“Your photographs will be in the window one of these days. Go on in and say hello to the gallery owner. Show her your portfolio.”
Vivian tightened her grip on the portfolio case and gave him another determined smile. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need luck. You’ve got talent.”
She looked surprised by the comment.
“Thank you,” she said.
She opened the door. A bell chimed somewhere inside. Nick watched through the window as Vivian walked briskly toward the desk at the far end of the room. A middle-aged woman in a severe black business suit got to her feet to greet her.
After a moment he returned to the reflections in the window, watching for anyone who did not fit into the patterns. Rex got bored with a nearby palm tree and settled down on the sidewalk below the window.
Nick leaned down to give him an affectionate pat. When he straightened he saw what he had been looking for all along, the one person who did not fit into the rhythms of the street.
A figure dressed as a deliveryman, cap pulled down low over his eyes, lounged in the shadows of a narrow walkway on the far side of the busy plaza. He turned and disappeared down the flagstone path but not before Nick had marked the air of elegant ennui that did not belong to a man who made his living with his hands.
“Got you,” Nick said softly.
Rex looked up at him and grinned.
Chapter 30
Of course I remember you, Miss Brazier.” Joan Ashwood smiled. “We met at the Kempton Gallery exhibition in Adelina Beach several months ago. You had two excellent landscapes on display. They both had sold tags on them.”
Joan was middle-aged with the patrician demeanor of a woman who had been born to sell art to those who could afford the best but didn’t trust their own judgment. She had been surprised when Vivian had walked through the door but her welcome had been gracious.
She probably thinks I’m going to try to talk her into displaying some of my pictures. Which is exactly what I’m hoping to do.
“Yes, that’s right.” Vivian relaxed a little. “A hotel in Adelina Beach picked them up to display in the lobby. They were my first two art sales.”
And so far, my only two art sales. But she did not say that aloud.
“Are you on vacation or did you come to Burning Cove to take photos?” Joan asked.
“I’m here to relax but I’ve got my camera with me. I’m hoping to get some good landscapes. The coastline is very scenic.”
“If you want my advice, forget the landscapes. Ansel Adams has the corner on that market.”
Vivian sighed. “You aren’t the first gallery owner to give me that advice.”
“Anyone with a camera and some luck with the weather can get a good landscape shot,” Joan said. “You know the famous Eastman Kodak slogan.”
“‘You press the button, we do the rest.’”
“I fear that will become increasingly true in the future.”
“Landscape photos are not my favorite genre but I thought it was a good place to start.” Vivian tightened her grip on her portfolio. “Lately I’ve been working on a new series, however. Something quite different.”
Joan glanced at the leather portfolio. “I assume you brought some examples with you?”
“Ever had an artist walk into your gallery without some samples of his or her work?”
Joan chuckled. “No, and that’s fine by me. I’m always interested. Let me see what you’ve been doing.”
Vivian opened the portfolio and removed two pictures, both male nudes. She placed them on the counter.
“I’m calling the series Men,” she said. “Eventually there will be twelve photographs. Each will focus on a different aspect of how men are perceived in our modern world. I want the viewer to question their own assumptions about what it means to be perceived as male. To rethink the very meaning of manhood.”
She stepped back and held her breath, waiting for a reaction.
Joan reached for her glasses, slipped them on, and studied the photographs with a sharp gaze. She looked at them for a very long time. Vivian’s heart sank. She braced herself for a lecture on the difference between pornography and art.
Joan finally removed her glasses and set them aside. Intense satisfaction glittered in her eyes.
“Oh, yes,” she said softly. “I can sell these. They are riveting. You invite the viewer to question assumptions and roles but at the same time there is a startling intimacy and sensuality in these figures. Amazing.”
Vivian managed to breathe again. Euphoria sparked through her.