Gauguin Connection, The by Estelle Ryan Read Free Book Online Page A

state, Phillip spoke. “Manny told me about the things the killer shouted. Have you come up with any theories?”
    “No. To be honest, I haven’t given the twenty-seven daffodils and the all-powerful red much thought.”
    “Maybe you should. I’ve looked at it every which way and it still sounds like rubbish.” He glanced at the monitors. “I have quite a lot to tell Manny. I’ll meet with him today while you go home and rest.”
    “Yes, I need to go home.” I needed to stand in the shower for an hour and wash away the zone I had been in. “While you speak to Manny, tell him to work harder at finding the girl’s identity.”
    “I’m sure he and the local police have worked really hard in identifying the girl, Genevieve.” He lowered his head and gave me a warning look. “While you’re at home, do whatever you need to do to tune back into your social skills. Manny is not one to take too kindly to your special brand of honesty.”
    I disagreed with him on that point, but kept my own counsel. The way I had read Manny, I strongly believed that he would prefer my total honesty, even if he did not always find it, or me for that matter, agreeable or likeable.
    After another two warnings that I was to go home and rest, Phillip left me alone in the viewing room to face the mess I found myself in.
    With a heavy sigh I gathered the coffee mugs to take them to the kitchen. It took another hour to tidy my viewing room enough to allow the cleaning crew to come in later and clean it to my exact specifications. All the while I berated myself for allowing this case to get the better of all the years of discipline.
    Once I got into my little city car, I decided that I had had enough of the self-flagellation. As with most other experiences, I would consciously look at this as a lesson on how to, or in this case how not to, handle certain situations life threw at me. I had worked extremely hard in the six years that I had been with Rousseau & Rousseau to establish stability and control in my life. It should not have come as a surprise to me that I could not always be in control. I should have been prepared to handle such an unexpected situation better. The predictable stability in my life had made me lazy and unprepared. That would have to change.
    I turned my car into the parking space under my apartment building and got out with a sigh of relief. The soothing spray of my shower would help me plot out how I would handle such a situation differently, were one to come up again. Hopefully the unexpected photo that triggered my almost blackout and then the zoning out were the last of these unwanted behaviours. Waiting for the elevator to whisk me up to my apartment, I was determined to regain every ounce of control.
    It had been almost a novelty after so many years to once again feel the darkness closing in on me. I had forgotten what it was like to feel the whole world recede and just lose myself in that dark space, not aware of any of my actions. Fortunately I had been able to keep myself from complete surrender to that darkness. Even still, it was certainly not something that I wanted to repeat any time soon.
    I opened the door to my large loft apartment, relief to be in my safe haven washing over me. This was the place where I was totally in control.
    I locked the five locks on my heavy front door and turned to the kitchen. My usual homecoming ritual of a cup of herbal tea before I took a shower would go a long way in helping me regain total control. My apartment had been a find that I still relished in. The spacious airy rooms with windows on both sides, large enough to bathe all the wooden finishing in natural light, always made me feel at peace. That and the fact that there was no one to move anything out of place or to leave their grimy fingerprints on the impeccable surfaces.
    I walked through the long open-space living area, single-minded in my focus on making tea. The front half of my apartment was divided into four