She walked around behind Crenshaw and watched him work as he added a moon to the nightscape he was creating. In the painting, there was a woman in a full-length white muslin dress, standing on the shoreline. Her eyes were closed, although she was facing the light of the newborn moon come to life in white, lime, and pale yellow. A few yards out in the surf, something was rising up out of the waves—an anthropomorphic form with horns and monstrous features. “It’s weird but not really frightening,” she said to Owen, who joined her, standing behind the artist.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

She nodded.

Crenshaw had turned to some detail work on the woman’s face, and was moving in with a dab of dark blue on a different brush that appeared to have but three bristles. He was just about to strike a mark of shadow on the chin when there came a loud pounding noise from the front entrance.

“My new customer,” the painter said to the cat. He stood and removed the maroon robe he wore. Under it he had on a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of black dress pants. He adjusted his glasses, smoothed down his sparse hair, and headed for the door. The cat leaped down from the chair arm and followed him.

“Come on,” said Melody, and they followed a few feet behind the cat.

They arrived at the house’s front door just as the artist was opening it. Standing there, smiling, with his hands clasped behind his back, was a young man with short hair and a dark suit and red tie. He bowed to the old man and Crenshaw invited him in. The identity of the fellow at the door wasn’t clear at first, but when he laughed and introduced himself there was no doubt it was Feit, with a haircut and shave.

“That’s him,” he said to Melody. That’s the guy I followed here last night.”

“My secretary told me you prefer to do business at night,” said Feit.

“Yes, come in, Mr. Feit. She told me you were interested in whatever I was working on currently. I can tell you I just added a moon to the scene. I hope you like moonglow.”

“I’m excited to see it.”

He led the young man down the hall and through the rooms. Along the way, Feit made admiring comments about the art on the walls and stacked in the corners. “If he threatens to kill the old man, is there something we can do?” he asked Melody.

“Nothing we wouldn’t have had to prepare for well in advance. Basically, we can watch.”

“I hope he lets Feit have whatever he wants.”