Infinity Beach - Jack McDevitt [21]
“Did you know him?” asked Kim. “Personally?”
“I knew him quite well. When he lived in the area.”
“Do you have a print of this one? Of Storm Warning!”
Gould consulted a catalog. “Yes,” he said. “I have two left. But they’re not signed.”
“It’s okay,” said Kim, grateful that the price would be diminished by that much. “How much is it?”
“Two hundred.”
“Not cheap,” said Solly.
“I’ll take it,” said Kim.
“It’s a limited edition,” Gould purred soothingly. “You can be sure it’ll hold its value.” He excused himself and disappeared up a narrow staircase.
“That costs an arm and a leg,” Solly complained.
“I know. But we want to keep him talking to us. We should buy something.”
He indicated a dancing nude.
“Right,” she said.
Gould returned with her print and held it up for her to see. “This is quite lovely,” he said. “You’ll find it’s an excellent investment. Would you like me to have it framed for you?”
“No, thank you,” she said. “I’ll take it as is.” She was wondering where she’d put it and began to wish she’d gone for something out of Kane’s early years. They made appreciative sounds over the print for a minute, and then Gould rolled it up and put it into a tube.
“Did he become depressed after the Mount Hope event?” asked Solly casually.
Gould pressed his fingertips against his temples as if the memory were painful. “Oh yes. He was never the same after that.”
“In what way?”
“It’s hard to explain. He’d always been friendly, outgoing, easy to talk to. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration. But he wasn’t a difficult man, in the way that talents frequently are. But all that went away. He became exceedingly withdrawn. About that time, I was going to Severin Village most nights. My wife lived there then. We weren’t married yet, you understand. And I used to make it a point to go by his place, Kane’s place, to see how he was doing. He wasn’t known then the way he is now. But I knew, I always knew, he was going to be great one day.
“He sold his work through me. He wasn’t getting much for it in those days, nothing like what it would command now. But he didn’t need the money. The paintings were just something he did. You know what I mean?”
She nodded.
“Did I tell you I was there when it happened? When the mountain blew up?
“It was terrible. The town was kind of down low and sheltered so it didn’t get hit directly or we’d’ve all been dead. But pieces of rock and whole trees fell out of the sky. We didn’t know what hit us. Then there was the dust. People choking and dying—” His eyes had gone distant. “Sasha and I did what we could, but—” He held out his hands. “But you don’t want to hear this.”
Kim and Solly stood quietly, waiting.
“By then I was trying to hold onto his work. Buying his paintings myself because I knew they were undervalued. I brought them back here and just waited for the price to go up. Now they’re worth thirty, forty times what they were. And it’s still a seller’s market.” He turned back toward the Autumn. “Look at that; you ever see anyone with that kind of range? Maybe Crabbe. Maybe Hoskin. No, not Hoskin.” He shook his head vehemently, dismissing Hoskin.
“Did you by any chance know Kile Tripley?” asked Kim.
“Tripley? No. Tripley lived in a villa well away from everybody else. He was above spending time with the common people.”
“Would you say he and Kane were friends?”
“Not particularly. No.”
“He was Kane’s employer,” said Kim.
“That’s not the same thing as being a friend.”
Kim was having a hard time keeping her eyes off the Autumn. “One more thing, Mr. Gould,” she said. “I’m interested in what caused his dark period. Did you sense there was anything other than the explosion that might have influenced his later work? A lost woman, perhaps?”
“I know he was affected by what happened to her.” He looked meaningfully at Emily’s image.
“Did he say that?”
“You can see it in his work. But he never outright said it, no.”
“Anything else?”