Page 17 of When You're Lost
Eleanor exchanged a look with Rob.“We’re not certain yet.We'll need to get everything analyzed to be sure.The forensics team ruled out anything hazardous.”
Finn straightened, exhaling.“All right, so which specific artwork is this referencing, Doc?”
“Doc?”Eleanor asked with a sigh.
“Humor him,” Rob said.“Believe me, it's less hassle.”
Eleanor pointed at the body.“Notice the victim’s arms: the right hand is holding a hat, and the left arm is posed on his hip.And if you look at his mouth—” She knelt carefully, opening the man’s jaw to reveal a dark bluish stain.“I think it’s paint, not ink.That’s consistent with Gainsborough’sThe Blue Boy, a famous portrait featuring a figure in blue attire with a certain posture—hat in one hand, other hand on the hip.The killer probably forced the victim’s mouth open, used the paint to highlight the color.That's my conclusion, at least.”
Finn shook his head, unnerved.“Another posed victim.The killer is systematically replicating scenes from iconic paintings.FirstThe Cornfield, nowThe Blue Boy.It must be the same killer.Can I get a full report of the forensics once it's done?"
Rob glanced at the door.“Yes, I'll have it sent to you ASAP.We’ll see if we can find a reason behind all of this.In the meantime, want to question the staff?The butler’s name is Bremner—he says he was the last one to speak to Garner.He also let the old man into this study.”
Finn nodded.“Lead on.”
They left the study, heading to a smaller parlor where a single older man in a crisp black suit sat trembling on the edge of a seat.Bremner, presumably.He looked up at their approach, eyes red and puffy.
Finn offered a sympathetic nod.“I’m Finn, and this is Eleanor.We're sorry for your loss.Can you tell us what happened last night?”
Bremner coughed nervously.“A man arrived close to midnight—an elderly gentleman, stooped with a walking stick.He said he was recommended by Lord Maguire to sell a rare Stanley Spencer painting.Mr.Garner told me to leave them be and insisted I retire to bed.This morning… I found him on the floor and cut...Dear God...”
Eleanor folded her arms.“So you never saw this man leave?”
“No,” Bremner admitted, shoulders sagging.“I was told not to disturb Mr.Garner, so I went to my quarters.I… I can’t imagine an old man doing something so violent.He could barely stand.”
Finn exchanged a knowing look with Rob.“Or he was in disguise,” he murmured.
Bremner’s eyes widened.“Disguise?”
Finn pursed his lips.“It's possible.The killer could have used a disguise and pretended to be someone harmless.That’s why you thought he wasn’t physically capable of harming your employer.”
Bremner let out a shaky breath.“God forgive me.If only I had stayed…”
Rob gently placed a hand on the butler’s shoulder.“Then there would have been two dead people in the study.You couldn’t have known.Let’s gather your official statement soon, but for now, we appreciate your cooperation.I'll have someone bring you some water.”
They left him with a constable, returning to the study.Finn hovered near the forensic team as they scooped more of the white powder from the floor.The tang of chemicals hung in the air.Kneeling again, Finn watched the matter being bagged.He stood, thoughtful.“I think I know what this is without the lab report.I’m pretty sure it’s latex.If you look at how it’s wrinkling—classic sign of dried latex after it’s peeled off or torn away.Probably from a mask or facial prosthetic.”
Eleanor raised an eyebrow.“You sound sure.”
He gave a quick shrug.“Undercover work, plus… a bit of stage experience,” he said, half-smiling.Rob coughed into his fist, about to mention something, but Finn cut him off before he could inform Eleanor about their amateur dramatics days during college.“Let’s not go into details, yeah?The point is, I can recognize latex residue.”
Rob smirked faintly.“As you wish.”Then he turned to Eleanor.“So we have another murder, referencing another painting again.The killer might have many more works in mind.”
“That’s the fear,” Eleanor said.“And we still don’t know the motive beyond the staging.Are the victims random collectors?Art experts?Could they be chosen for personal reasons?”
Finn folded his arms.“Both victims had ties to art—Victoria was an artist herself and an expert on spotting forgeries, Garner a collector.If we keep searching, we might find a link or a clue that leads us to the next target.”
Eleanor’s phone chimed.She glanced at it, lips pursed.“Well, I do know one connection:The CornfieldandThe Blue Boywere both part of that exhibit at Blackthorn Gallery.The gallery used them as highlights in a recent display about iconic British, Dutch, and Flemish masterpieces.I'm certainThe Blue Boywas featured in a curated selection of Gainsborough prints.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed.“Blackthorn again?I had a feeling we'd end up back there.Then that’s it.There’s our lead.If the killer is referencing that exhibit, we’d better go see what else was shown there.Because if they’re systematically re-creating each piece, there may already be a next painting lined up.”
Rob exhaled, nodding grimly.“All right.Talk to the Blackthorn Gallery owner again.Let’s hope he can give us a list of everything in that show.Or any suspicious visitors with an obsession.”
Eleanor moved to leave, her gaze shifting from the body to the door.“We’ll need to move quickly.This is an escalating pattern.The killer might be halfway done or just beginning.”
Finn cast one more look at Edmund Garner’s lifeless form, the hat propped in his limp hand, left arm contorted to mimic Gainsborough’s famed subject.A chill laced his spine.“Time’s not on our side,” he said quietly.“Someone carrying out kills this brutal is only going to get worse.”
“I dread to think what we might find soon if we don't catch him,” Eleanor added.
