Murder at the Falls by Stefanie Matteson Read Free Book Online Page B

his body as if he were trying to stop it. His head was swiveling from side to side in wide-eyed terror. Charlotte had often heard the phrase “made my skin crawl”; now she knew exactly what it meant.
    As she watched him, it dawned on her this was a drug reaction, and that his appealing aura of energy had been drug-induced. Turned up by several degrees—or rather, all the way—it was no longer very pretty.
    “I think I know what he had to go back to his studio for,” Tom whispered.
    “What is it, love?” asked a concerned Xantha. She hovered next to Randy like a protective fairy, her magenta-rimmed eyes wide with alarm.
    “I see them,” he said, staring at the painting. “This time I’m certain I see them.” Then he moaned, a low moan, like an animal in pain, and stuck his right arm out stiffly at the painting. “They’re under the counter.” Beads of sweat had popped out on his temples. “Don’t you see them?”
    “ What do you see, love?”
    By this time, Randy’s behavior had attracted the attention of the other guests, who stood around in silence, plastic wineglasses in hand, staring discreetly out of the corners of their eyes.
    “What’s happening?” asked Diana, appearing at Charlotte’s side.
    “Randy’s going off the deep end again,” came the bored, cynical voice of the woman behind her. “Somebody had better go get Patty.”
    Suddenly Randy shouted: “I’ve got to get out of here.” Then he lifted his forearms, as if he was trying to shield his face from attack, and backed slowly away. “Where can I go?” he cried out. Then his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
    As the guests stood around trying to figure what to do—it had all happened so fast—a woman appeared at Randy’s side. Charlotte recognized her as Patty Andriopoulis. She had shed her black polyester waitress’s uniform for a simple black cocktail dress.
    Randy looked up at her. “Australia: that’s where I’ll go,” he said, answering his own question. “He won’t be able to find me there.”
    “Patty, thank God you’re here,” said Diana. Reaching into her pocketbook, she discreetly handed Patty a long white business envelope. “Here,” she whispered. “Give him this. Tell him it’s his ticket for Australia.”
    Patty nodded and grabbed the envelope. “I have your plane ticket right here, Ran,” she said in a soft, soothing voice. “Your flight’s at one A.M. ” She gently took hold of his arm. “C’mon. Let’s go get a drink. Then we’ll go back to your place and pack your suitcase.”
    She gestured for one of the bystanders to help her, and together they pulled Randy up to a standing position. Holding him firmly by one elbow, Patty slowly guided him toward the door.
    Randy meekly let her push him along, relief flowing over his pale, sweat-drenched face.
    Charlotte and Tom happened to be on the scene when the police recovered Randy’s body three days later.
    They had come to Paterson to talk with him about the painting, or rather, Tom had. Charlotte had been planning to take the self-guided walking tour of the historic district, using the map she had picked up at the museum on the evening of the opening. They had just parked in the lot across the street from the Gryphon Mill when a string of four police cars came racing by, gumballs flashing. They were trailed by a rescue squad truck. When the vehicles came to a screeching halt next to a vacant lot fifty feet down the street, Charlotte knew from the gleam in Tom’s eye that there was no way they were going to miss out on whatever it was that was going on. He was hardly one to ignore a police emergency, especially when they were a few minutes early for their appointment anyway.
    The vacant lot where the police cars had pulled over was bordered by a raceway, which ran under the street and behind a row of mills on the other side. Joining the cluster of onlookers which had gathered on the bridge over the raceway, they immediately