Read Online Spider’s Cage by Jim Nisbet - Free Book Online Page B

call. Woodruff goes out and takes it.”
    â€œWait. Don’t tell me. While he’s out of the room the missus jumps you. She says she and the old man aren’t making it anymore, and it’s been a long time since there’s been a real man around the house…”
    â€œThat was the last case,” Windrow said, grinding his teeth.
    â€œOh.” Bdeniowitz lapsed back into his slightly puzzled state. “So did she say anything?”
    Windrow shook his head. “Not much,” he said. “She was pretty stoned. Stared a lot, made a couple of obtuse remarks and sniffled once in a while. I finished my drink and she told me to help myself to another. I was doing that when Woodruff came back and told me Jodie had called.”
    â€œDriving drunk, eh? So who’s this Jodie?”
    â€œThat’s the stepdaughter.”
    â€œOh, yeah, I forgot.”
    Bdeniowitz paused for a moment before his next question.
    â€œWhen did you realize she was Sweet Jesus O’Ryan’s granddaughter?”
    Windrow almost permitted himself a smile. Max was never as ignorant as he pretended to be.
    â€œWhen I read about it in the papers, same as you.”
    â€œShe never mentioned him?”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œSo what happened to her?”
    â€œWoodruff told me she’s in a recording session, and running late. He said she’s real excited about the session, apologetic about our date, and that she’ll be in touch.”
    â€œSo how come she didn’t ask the maid for you?”
    â€œThat’s a good question.” Windrow didn’t mention that he hadn’t believed for one minute that the Ryan girl had been on the telephone at all. He said, “I’ll have to ask her that when I see her,” and Bdeniowitz nodded.
    Gleason came back in the room. “I got a hold of O’Shaunessey,” he said. “Says there’s a painting of an oil pump over the fireplace. An oil pump in the desert.”
    â€œYeah,” Bdeniowitz nodded. “I didn’t remember a boat up there.”
    â€œThere’s something else,” Gleason added. “O’Shaunessey thought it was funny you wanted to know about a sailboat over the fireplace, because they found what was left of a painting of a sailboat
in
the fireplace.”
    Bdeniowitz turned to look at Gleason, then turned back to Windrow. Windrow screwed up his bruise and scratched where it met the corner of his eye. “That picture of the boat was
ARCADIA
, the
ARCADIA
II.”
    â€œLooks like somebody sank her,” Gleason said gravely. “The frame and stretchers were broken up and the canvas was wrapped around them.” He made a twisting motion with his hands. “The whole mess was laid in on top of some newspapers and woodscraps, partially burned.”
    â€œBut it hadn’t been completely burned?” Windrow asked.
    Gleason shook his head. “Nope. O’Shaunessey said they could still make out most of the canvas when they spread it out. There’s a sunset, a sailboat with two masts and the name on the boat was, ah…” He began to thumb through his spiral notebook.
    â€œ
ARCADIA II
,” Bdeniowitz said. He looked at Windrow. “What’s it mean, apple?”
    Windrow shook his head. “Beats me, Max. When I got there the oil pump was on the way out, and the sailboat was on the wall. The kid told you that, right?”
    â€œWe didn’t know to ask him about the paintings. But we’ll check on it. Hell, I believe you. The thing is, what’s this got to do with the Neil woman?”
    Windrow was silent.
    Gleason scratched his head. “I guess someone just didn’t like her taste in art?” he ventured, and shrugged.
    â€œDo you think it was the same type that doesn’t like private detectives?” Bdeniowitz said.
    Windrow looked at him. “You mean you believe that business about the limousine?”
    Bdeniowitz