“Excuse Renee. She’s eccentric and needs her rest,” the man said shortly.
“And excuse Ronald. He needs to exert his superiority and influence even whenhewasn’t called into a situation.”
“You don’t live here, Mr. Valless?” Jesse asked.
“It’s just Renee. There’s a live-in maid who has the apartment over the garage. She’s the one who was sent to the hospital,” Ronald said. “The security company alerts me.”
“My brother thinks someone has to be responsible for me,” Renee whispered to Jesse. “He’s afraid I’ll turn out like Grandfather.”
Ronald sighed loudly, dragging Jesse’s attention away from Renee’s spookiness. “Agents, if you will follow me.”
“We aren’t finished with the crime scene. They can’t have it,” Gaines said.
“We’re only going to take a peek,” Milton said. “You and your crime techs are welcome to it. I plan on getting in bed before midnight.”
Ronald bristled at that remark, but he led the way out of the entrance and toward the back of the mansion. Milton followed closely behind him, Renee next, and Jesse at the end. The uniformed cop remained with the detectives.
The house was massive inside, and well cared for. An archway led to the living room with expensive furniture, and a door led to the dining room with a long, gleaming table.
Jesse pulled out a pad of paper and a pen from his back pocket. “What was taken from the residence?”
“One of Grandfather’s statues,” Renee said. She slowed to walk beside Jesse. “What’s your name?”
“Dawes, and my partner’s Milton,” Jesse replied.
“Dawes. Sounds familiar. D-awe-z.”
“Renee, if you’re not going to help, go to your room,” Ronald said.
Renee rolled her eyes. “You forget I own the home. I own the collection. This theft happened to my property. Not to yours.”
“Then why don’t you seem to give a shit?” Ronald snapped.
“I do, but pounding my fists won’t bring the statue back,” Renee replied.
Ronald stopped and spun toward his sister. “You turned off the alarm without calling anyone.”
Jesse made a note of that, and when Renee caught him writing, she frowned at him. The first real flicker of emotion she’d shown. He noted that, too.
Covering up her frown, Renee affected her dreamy demeanor. “The maid has a habit of setting the alarm wrong and the motion sensors detect me and the blaring starts. I assumed that was what happened. I didn’t realize anything else was wrong until I called out to see what happened and she didn’t answer me.”
“Did you see the robber?” Jesse asked.
Renee shook her head. “Poor Anita didn’t either. He struck her from behind. He was already gone when I came down.”
“It’s a good thing I was nearby. If left to her own devices, Renee would have taken longer to call the authorities.” Ronald’s nostrils flared. “The theft happened in here.”
Ronald opened a door to a long, skinny room. The gallery had the same polished wood floor as the hallway. The walls were painted stone gray. Paintings hung on the walls, statues stood around the room or were on pedestals, and a couple of antique couches finished out the space.
The artwork washideous, and strangely beautiful as well. Before one of the couches hung a painting. Its sea of yellows, oranges, reds, and hints of sickly green ran together like a whirlpool, drawing attention even as it inspired a cold sweat down Jesse’s spine. It brought on a familiar sense of vertigo, and he turned away before he threw up. He nearly ran into a sculpture of a man in utter agony as he clutched at his head and chest. The next portrait was practically mundane in its appearance: a depiction of a creature bearing a strong resemblance to the aliens fromWar of the Worlds.
There were other striking alien figures scattered throughout the gallery. As different as each work seemed from the next, Jesse felt a connection tying them together. The minds that had created the art—Jesse spotted at least four different artistic styles—must have been under the same influences. It wasn’t entirely unlike reading his uncle’s journals about alien encounters, but that was like dipping his toes in a cold sea. Standing in the gallery was like getting dumped into the middle of the ocean with cement shoes.
But apparently, he was the only one feeling that way. Milton and Ronald continued walking toward the far end where a pair of glass doors were wrecked. Whatever they were saying was lost to Jesse. He couldn’t hear much past the pounding in his ears. He gulped air, and realized he’d dropped his pen. When he straightened after picking it up, Renee was only inches away. Startled, he backpedaled, and his elbow slammed into a marble statue of what had to be some kind of sea god.
“You’re disoriented,” Renee said.
Jesse wiped sweat off his lip. The room wasn’t hot, but something was very wrong with it. “I’m fine, ma’am.”
