said, having read a few of the articles.
“Didn’t a governess disappear?”
“So she did,” Brett said briskly, apparently not really wanting to talk about the old story. “It made front-page news at the time. But for years now everything about it’s been quiet, though I’m surprised someone hasn’t written a book about it. Horrible business, but not recent. It must be all of fifty years ago. Which reminds me my big five-oh is coming. Aging is not fun.”
“Don’t take it to heart. You’ve never looked better.” Jessica was sincere. “Anyway, you can always do what Becky does. Birthday every three years like the elections.”
“Women can get away with these things. What’s the old saying? ‘If a woman tells you her age, she’ll tell you anything.’ I look after myself and I don’t smoke. At least not for years now. Couldn’t do without my wine cellar, but wine in moderation is good for you. I’ll be very angry if the medical profession suddenly disputes it. But back to Bannerman. You can be sure he’s put up plenty of signs warning visitors about nomadic crocodiles.”
“You think a crocodile may have taken the governess?” Jessica asked with some horror.
“How can one not hate them?” Brett shuddered. “Poor little soul. I can just see her picnicking without a care in the world beside a lagoon and up pops a prehistoric monster. There have been a few cases of that in North Queensland in recent times.”
“More likely in one particular case the husband pushed her into the lagoon,” Jessica offered darkly, having come to that conclusion along with a lot of other people, including the investigating police officer, who just couldn’t prove it. “I can’t believe you’re sending me up there.”
“Sweetie, you’re at no risk.” Brett took her seriously when she was only teasing. “I’ll be very surprised if you even lay eyes on a crocodile. I understand the station is a good way inland.”
“I hope so, but I’m sure I’ve read it’s within striking distance of Kakadu National Park, World Heritage area, reputed to be fabulous and home of the crocodile.”
“I’m quite sure you’ll be safe. The very last thing in the world I want is to have my favourite niece vanish into the wilderness. I love you dearly.”
“I love you, too,” Jessica answered. She resumed reading the fax. “He’d like me to be in Darwin by Monday, the twenty-second where I’ll be picked up at Darwin airport and taken to the station. The twenty-second! That’s two weeks away.” Her green eyes widened.
“I know. Doesn’t leave you much time.” Brett gazed past her linen-clad shoulder, a smile transforming the severity of his handsome features. “Not more junk, Tim?” he drawled. “You’re hooked on it.”
Jessica swiveled around, a big, welcoming smile on her face. “Hi, Timmy. How did it go in Sydney?” Her eyes settled with considerable curiousity on a large canvas he was carrying beneath his arm. “What have you got there?”
“My dears, you’ll never believe!” Tim, thick black hair, deep dark eyes, extraordinarily youthful-looking and dressed casually in T-shirt and jeans, staggered through the open doorway.
“We don’t need any more paintings, Tim dear,” Brett warned.
“You’re going to love this one,” Tim promised, his voice reflecting his excitement. “I had one hell of a battle to get it. Some crazy old bat I swear was in costume was after it. No manners whatsoever. We nearly had a fistfight right there on the floor of Christie’s.”
“If you’ve bought some bloody flower painting, I’ll kill you,” Brett said. Tim had excellent taste but he did overly favor flower paintings.
“Voilà!” Tim rested the painting against the wall of built-in cabinets, gesturing as if at a masterpiece.
There was total silence.
Then a stunned. “My God!” blurted out from Brett.
“Where in the world did you get this?” Jessica was equally transfixed.
“I told you. Christie’s auction.” Tim whipped a satisfied grin over both their stunned faces.
“That’s one of the most haunting paintings I’ve ever seen,” Brett murmured, standing up the better to examine it. “The girl could be Jass.”
“Now you know why I wanted it.” Tim suddenly slumped into a chair as though his legs were giving out. “It made my hair stand on end.”
“So everyone has a double, after all,” Brett muttered. “What can you tell us about this? What’s the provenance?”
“I took a chance on this one,” Tim admitted, addressing his partner, the dominant of the two. Both men were devoted to each other, though Brett had strayed a few times over the years, causing much suffering. Tim brimmed over with charm and good humor, far more comfortable in his own skin than the at-war-with-himself Brett.
“No one knows anything about the artist. It’s signed in a fashion in the lower right-hand corner—H.B. It came in on consignment with a batch of paintings by established artists. There was comment about its beauty, but the serious collectors only buy names. The old girl I’m talking about was after it, I can tell you that. She even offered me far more than I paid for it.”
“It’s beautifully painted,” Jessica observed, making her own close inspection. “Perhaps the artist was in love with her. It has a decidedly erotic quality, don’t you think? I wonder who she was?”
“No date on it?” Brett asked.
“Nothing. From how she’s dressed I’d say late fourties, early fifties.” Jessica, who had studied fashion through the ages, remarked. “She’s very young. Seventeen, eighteen?”
“It’s a particularly fine example of color and light,” Brett said. He had excellent critical judgment. For some inexplicable reason he wasn’t comfortable with the sudden appearance of this remarkable painting. The work struck him as decidedly odd.
“Notice the background,” Jessica was saying. “It’s fairly loose. No clear outlines, but I’d say it’s definitely the great outdoors. Not a suburban garden. The long, curly blond hair is marvelous. So are the green eyes staring right at you. It’s quite powerful, actually. Sort of mesmeric. Don’t you feel that?” She looked back at the two men.
Brett nodded, turning to Tim. “How much did this set us back?”
“Twenty thousand,” Tim said, looking like he was about to get up and run.
“Wh-a-t?” Brett snapped. “An unknown artist?”
“But plenty of panache! That old girl knew him. Or of him,” Tim said defensively. “I’m sure of it. Besides I couldn’t let it go anywhere else. It belongs here.” His dark eyes appealed to Jessica. “She, the girl in the portrait, wanted me to buy it. She moved me to do it. You understand that, Jass. You’re so sensitive. For all we know, she could be a relation.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We know all the relations, more’s the pity,” Brett said acidly, giving his partner a sharp look.
“Well,
