Death of an Artist (31 page)

He set his glass down hard and looked ready to haul himself to his feet, walk, or hobble out. She said, still keeping her voice calm and decisive, “Tony, you've been punishing yourself for these past years. You let others define you and accepted their self-serving definition. It's time to stop. You didn't kill that boy in New York, and you aren't responsible for those who did. If they had stopped for just a few seconds, they would have known that you had the situation under control, that he was going to hand that gun to you, and it would have been over. They didn't take those few seconds.”

She drew in a breath. “It's time to stop the self-flagellation, Tony. You gave that boy a chance to save himself, and the others prevented it from happening. You know that's true. You did the same thing with Dale Oliver. You gave him a chance to save himself. That's who you are, how you are, what you are, and you have to stop the guilt trip now. Give yourself a chance to live.”

He sat rigidly with his eyes closed, his fists clenched, and she went on, “Tony, one day I put my hand on your arm. I didn't intend it as a come-on, a pass. You recoiled, and I thought you were rejecting me. But you weren't. You were rejecting life. Since then, I've seen you looking at me. Marnie has seen it. You weren't rejecting me, Tony. That day, when I touched you, every cell in my body lunged toward you. I didn't know it could happen like that. But it did. I love you, Tony. I've loved you since that one touch, maybe before that, but that day I knew it. I love you. I don't want a commitment, nothing like that. Just tell me that when I come home from my internship, you'll be here. That's all I'm asking.”

He finally looked at her and shook his head. “I can't do that. I'm not the man for you. I'm an old, broken-down guy who will be fifty-one when you come home.”

“And I'll be thirty-one. My grandfather was nearly twenty years older than Marnie. Her years with him, she told me, was the happiest time of her life. She has no regrets.”

“And she's been a widow for twenty-five years,” he said raggedly.

“He caught pneumonia and let it go untreated too long. It killed him. We have better treatments now, and you'll have a very good doctor keeping an eye on you. It isn't going to happen.”

He shook his head. “Think of Josh and his needs. He needs a father your age, one who will play ball with him, do—”

“Knock it off. I want him to have a father he can talk about when he's grown with the kind of respect and love you have for your father. A father who will teach him how to use tools so he will have the satisfaction of making things he can be proud of. A father strong enough not to have to shoot anyone. One with an unshakable innate integrity and sense of justice.” She made a brushing-aside gesture. “That's all beside the point. I love you, everything else is secondary.”

She did not move as he gathered himself, pulled himself from the chair, keeping his weight on his good leg. He started to move, hunched over, reaching for any support he could grasp. When he got to the kitchen table and held on to it, she crossed the few feet that separated them. Leaning against the table, he took her by the shoulders, examined her face, and in an agonized voice said, “God help us both.” He pulled her closer and kissed her, a deep, almost brutal kiss. Her fingers dug into his back, and she met his kiss with a response equally strong.

 

ALSO BY KATE WILHELM

The Barbara Holloway Novels

Death Qualified

The Best Defense

Malice Prepense

Defense for the Devil

No Defense

Desperate Measures

The Clear and Convincing Proof

The Unbidden Truth

Sleight of Hand

A Wrongful Death

Cold Case

Heaven Is High

The Constance and Charlie Novels

The Hamlet Trap

The Dark Door

Smart House

Sweet, Sweet Poison

Seven Kinds of Death

A Flush of Shadows

Justice for Some

The Good Children

The Deepest Water

Skeletons

The Price of Silence

 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

DEATH OF AN ARTIST
. Copyright © 2012 by Kate Wilhelm. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

Wilhelm, Kate.

Death of an artist : a mystery / Kate Wilhelm.

    p. cm.

ISBN 978-0-312-65861-8 (hardback)

ISBN 978-1-4299-4223-2 (e-book)

    1.  Artists—Crimes against—Fiction.   2.  Oregon—Fiction.   3.  Domestic fiction.   I.  Title.

PS3573.I434D38 2012

813'.54—dc23

2011041007

e-ISBN 9781429942232

First Edition: March 2012