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Are You Afraid Of The Dark :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 8 из 173There was a Childe Hassam, a Jules Pascin, a Thomas Birch, a George Hitchcock, and, in one area, a group of Diane's paintings.
On the next floor were a master bedroom and bathroom, a second guest bedroom, and a sunny atelier, where Diane painted. Several of her paintings were hanging on the walls. On an easel in the center of the room was a half-finished portrait.
The first thing Diane did when she arrived home was to hurry into the atelier.
She removed the half-finished portrait on the easel and replaced it with a blank canvas. She began to sketch the face of the man who had tried to kill her, but her hands were trembling so hard that she had to stop.
* * *
DRIVING TO DIANE STEVEN'S apartment, Detective Earl Greenburg complained, "This is the part of the job I hate most." Robert Praegitzer said, "It's better that we tell them than have them hear about it on the evening news." He looked at Greenburg. "You going to tell her?" Earl Greenburg nodded unhappily. He found himself remembering the story of the detective who had gone to inform a Mrs. Adams, the wife of a patrolman, that her husband had been killed.
She's very sensitive, the chief had cautioned the detective. You'll have to break the news carefully.
Don't worry. I can handle it.
The detective had knocked on the door of the Adams home, and when it was opened by Adams's wife, the" detective had asked, Are you the widow Adams?
* * *
DIANE WAS STARTLED by the sound of the doorbell. She went to the intercom. "Who is it?" "Detective Earl Greenburg. I'd like to speak to you, Mrs. Stevens." It's about the carjacking, Diane thought. The police got here fast.
She pressed the buzzer and Greenburg entered the hallway and walked to her door.
"Hello."
"Mrs. Stevens?" "Yes. Thank you for coming so quickly. I started to draw a sketch of the man, but I…" She took a deep breath. "He was swarthy, with deep-set light brown eyes and a little mole on his cheek. His gun had a silencer on it, and-" Greenburg was looking at her in confusion. "I'm sorry. I don't understand what-" "The carjacker. I called 911 and-" She saw the expression on the detective's face. "This isn't about the carjacking, is it?" "No, ma'am, it's not." Greenburg paused a moment. "May I come in?
"Please."
Greenburg walked into the apartment.
She was looking at him, frowning. "What is it? Is something wrong?" The words would not seem to come. "Yes. I'm sorry. I-I'm afraid I have some bad news. It's about your husband." "What's happened?" Her voice was shaky.
"He's had an accident." Diane felt a sudden chill.
On the next floor were a master bedroom and bathroom, a second guest bedroom, and a sunny atelier, where Diane painted. Several of her paintings were hanging on the walls. On an easel in the center of the room was a half-finished portrait.
The first thing Diane did when she arrived home was to hurry into the atelier.
She removed the half-finished portrait on the easel and replaced it with a blank canvas. She began to sketch the face of the man who had tried to kill her, but her hands were trembling so hard that she had to stop.
* * *
DRIVING TO DIANE STEVEN'S apartment, Detective Earl Greenburg complained, "This is the part of the job I hate most." Robert Praegitzer said, "It's better that we tell them than have them hear about it on the evening news." He looked at Greenburg. "You going to tell her?" Earl Greenburg nodded unhappily. He found himself remembering the story of the detective who had gone to inform a Mrs. Adams, the wife of a patrolman, that her husband had been killed.
She's very sensitive, the chief had cautioned the detective. You'll have to break the news carefully.
Don't worry. I can handle it.
The detective had knocked on the door of the Adams home, and when it was opened by Adams's wife, the" detective had asked, Are you the widow Adams?
* * *
DIANE WAS STARTLED by the sound of the doorbell. She went to the intercom. "Who is it?" "Detective Earl Greenburg. I'd like to speak to you, Mrs. Stevens." It's about the carjacking, Diane thought. The police got here fast.
She pressed the buzzer and Greenburg entered the hallway and walked to her door.
"Hello."
"Mrs. Stevens?" "Yes. Thank you for coming so quickly. I started to draw a sketch of the man, but I…" She took a deep breath. "He was swarthy, with deep-set light brown eyes and a little mole on his cheek. His gun had a silencer on it, and-" Greenburg was looking at her in confusion. "I'm sorry. I don't understand what-" "The carjacker. I called 911 and-" She saw the expression on the detective's face. "This isn't about the carjacking, is it?" "No, ma'am, it's not." Greenburg paused a moment. "May I come in?
"Please."
Greenburg walked into the apartment.
She was looking at him, frowning. "What is it? Is something wrong?" The words would not seem to come. "Yes. I'm sorry. I-I'm afraid I have some bad news. It's about your husband." "What's happened?" Her voice was shaky.
"He's had an accident." Diane felt a sudden chill.