Summer in Eclipse Bay

"If, and I stress the word
if,
it is a genuine Upsall, it could easily fetch a couple hundred thousand at auction. Maybe two hundred and fifty."
    They all stared at her.
    Virgil exhaled deeply. "A couple hundred thousand
dollars
?"
    "Yes. The market for Upsall's work is hot at the moment and getting hotter." Octavia gave them all a warning look and held up one hand. "But to be on the safe side, I'd like to get a second opinion from a colleague of mine who specializes in mid-twentieth-century abstract art. She works in a museum in Seattle. Unfortunately, she's on vacation until next week."
    "Think we can get her to take a look at the picture when she returns?" Arizona asked.
    "Yes, for a fee," Octavia said. "She consults. She may even want to purchase it for her museum."
    "That brings up the question of what to do with it until we can get your colleague here to examine it," Virgil said. "Now that we know it's worth two hundred grand or more, I don't like the idea of leaving it here."
    "I could take it home with me," Arizona replied. "My security is top of the line. But the spies up at the institute keep a round-the-clock watch on me. If they see me take something from this place into my house, they might get curious. Don't want to draw any attention right now while we're at such a critical point in Project Log Book."
    "I've got a security system for the paintings in my gallery," Octavia said slowly. "I suppose I could store the Upsall in my back room for a week."
    "Good idea," Virgil agreed. "It should be fine in your back room. Not like Eclipse Bay is home to a lot of sophisticated art thieves."
    Photon smiled benignly. "You illuminate us with the radiant light of your kindness." Chapter 6
    The row of shops that lined the street across from the pier was dark and silent at this hour. The last rays of the summer sun were veiled behind the thickening layer of clouds. Whitecaps danced on the slate-gray waters of the bay.
    Nick parked in the small lot. When he climbed out from behind the wheel, a snapping breeze tugged at his wind-breaker.
Storm on the way,
he thought. Summer squalls were not unusual for this time of year here on the coast.
    Octavia was already out of the passenger seat. The bouncy wind whipped her hair into a froth and caused her long, full skirts to billow around her legs. She laughed a little as she grabbed a handful of her skirts to keep them from blowing up around her thighs. Her eyes were bright. He got the feeling that she was savoring the raw energy of the approaching storm. Maybe she tapped into it for her fairy magic or something. Seemed logical.
    "We'd better hurry," she said. "The rain will hit any minute."
    "Right."
    With an effort he wrenched his attention away from her flying hair and skirts and opened the rear door of the BMW. He reached inside and hoisted the painting. Octavia had wrapped the picture in old newspapers before leaving Thurgarton's cabin.
    Carrying the painting under one arm, he walked with her to the door of Bright Visions.
    "You really think this thing is worth a quarter million?" he asked.
    "Between you and me? Yes. But we'll all feel more secure once we've had a second opinion."
    She continued to struggle with her skirts with one hand while she withdrew her keys from her shoulder bag. She opened the front door and stepped quickly into the darkened interior of the shop to punch in the code that deactivated the alarm system. Then she flipped some switches to turn on the lights.
    "Who'd have believed that old Thurgarton would have possessed a valuable work of art?" He carried the painting into the shop. "He was no collector. You saw how he lived. How the heck do you suppose he got hold of it?"
    "I haven't got a clue." She led the way across the showroom to the long counter. "As I told you, there isn't a lot of Upsall's work around. It's amazing to think that one of his pictures has been sitting out here on the coast all these years."
    "Who says we're not a bunch of real sophisticated art lovers here in Eclipse Bay?"
    "Certainly not me." She opened the back room and turned on more lights. "You can put it there with that stack of paintings leaning against the far wall."
    He surveyed the crowded back room. Rows of paintings were stacked five and six deep against every wall. Empty frames of all shapes and sizes were propped in the corner. The workbench was littered with tools and matting materials.
    "No offense," he said dryly, setting down the painting, "but this place looks