Mel grinned inwardly. She’d been right last night when she had seen Elise rubbing her stomach. “Eight months? So you really did just find out. Those home pregnancy tests are getting more and more accurate, aren’t they?”
“Pregnancy test?” Elise frowned. “Actually, Kane just scented that...” She stopped and looked flustered for a moment. “I mean, Kane just...er...” Someone called her name again, and she appeared relieved to have a reason to abandon the conversation.
Sipping her water, Mel pondered what Elise had meant to say. Kane just scented...what? ‘Scented’ was a strange word to use. Dogs scented things, and from the glimpse she’d had of the man, he was anything but a mutt. For all that she’d love to pursue the conversation, it obviously made Elise uncomfortable, so Mel decided to drop it before risking alienating what was possibly her newest source. Elise’s husband, while gorgeous, was not her primary concern.
Eventually, Elise returned with the lasagna Mel had ordered. She looked a bit leery, as if fearing further questions. Trying to reassure her, Mel commented idly on the weather and Elise started to relax. Through the course of the meal, Mel kept the conversation light whenever the waitress happened to stop by her table offering more water or breadsticks. By the time she finished the meal, Elise was chatting easily to her once again. Deciding to make her move, Mel cautiously introduced the subject that was foremost in her mind.
“Well, I suppose I’d better hit the streets again and see if anyone is willing to talk to me about the local artists.”
“Who, in particular, are you interested in?” Elise asked idly, while writing up the bill for the meal.
“A local photographer, named Ryne Taylor. He used to live around here, but no one seems to know where he went.” If she hadn’t been watching, Mel probably wouldn’t have noticed the way Elise’s fingers suddenly gripped the pen tightly. “Do you know anything about him?”
“Ryne...Taylor did you say? No, I don’t believe I do. Of course, I only moved here in October.” Elise shrugged and kept her eyes on the bill.
“Oh. That’s too bad. Well, I’ll just ask around town then.” Mel could sense that Elise was lying, but having learned from her experience at Bastian’s, decided not to press the issue, in case she needed the young woman for something else in the future.
Elise handed her the bill and turned to leave, but then hesitated. Mel watched as she chewed on her lip. The server seemed to be gathering her courage before turning and posing a question in an overly casual voice. “Why are you asking about this particular photographer? I’ve never heard of him, so his work can’t be that good.”
“Someone who bought one of Mr. Taylor’s pictures raved about the quality of his work, and I thought I’d better check him out.”
“Oh.” Elise frowned and traced an idle pattern on the table cloth with her finger. “Um...do you know what the subject of the picture was? If it was displayed at Bastian’s, I might have noticed it once when I was shopping in the mall.”
Mel hesitated, but could see no problem in admitting the truth. “I’ve seen a few of Taylor’s pictures but not that one in particular. Supposedly, though, it was a picture of some wolves.”
Elise swallowed hard and nodded. “Well, I have to get back to work. Maybe I’ll see you later.” She looked at Mel briefly, worry apparent on her face, and then left.
“Right. Later.” Mel raised her hand in a perfunctory salute then narrowed her eyes as she watched Elise walk briskly away. The girl knew something, the question was what? What was the mystery surrounding this photographer and his present whereabouts?
*****
Mel spent the afternoon at the Smythston library, looking through back issues of the local paper for any mention of Ryne Taylor. He did have an exhibit a year ago, but the article didn’t include a picture of the man, nor any other useful particulars. She rubbed her forehead in frustration. Obviously, the man was very ordinary or there would have been some mention of him. But, if he was so ordinary, then why were the gallery and Elise withholding information about him? It wasn’t as if her article would harm him. There was no malicious intent.
And, as far as she knew, her benefactor, Mr. Greyson, just wanted background on a favourite artist. Maybe Greyson felt Mr. Taylor was an up-and-coming talent, and wanted to purchase more of his work as an investment, before the pictures became too expensive. Whatever the reason, she was being paid handsomely for the job—a job that wasn’t progressing very satisfactorily and would leave her with nothing to report to Mr. Aldrich, if she didn’t get moving. Arching her back, she pulled out yet another edition of the paper and got back to work.