Arizona nodded. "That's for damn sure."
"You've been keeping those logs and journals for years, A.Z.," Nick said. "You must have hundreds of them."
"The Heralds are working around the clock in shifts on the computer that we set up in my War Room. Logistics haven't been easy, I can tell you. Got to keep things running as usual at the bakery while we put the data online so we don't arouse suspicion. Don't want anyone up at the institute to come nosing around before we're ready to go live with the Web site."
"We expect to have Project Log Book completed by the end of the summer," Photon said.
"And now you've got to sort through all of this junk in addition to putting together a Web site project and operating the bakery." Nick shook his head at the enormousness of the task. "Don't envy you this job."
"We'll get it done," Arizona assured him with her customary can-do attitude. "No choice. Future of the country depends on making sure that the facts in my logs are available to the concerned citizens of this nation. The Internet is the only way to go."
"Uh, where are the pictures you wanted me to examine?" Octavia asked politely.
"Behind that row of boxes," Virgil said.
He led the way, forging a path through the maze of cartons and papers to the far side of the living room. Nick and Octavia followed him.
Four paintings in old, wooden frames were propped against the wall. In the gloom, Nick could see that the first three were landscapes. The fourth looked as if it had been splashed with a lot of dark paint.
Virgil switched on the reading lamp behind the recliner and aimed the beam at the paintings. "I suspect they're all worthless, but I wanted an expert opinion before we dumped them into the yard sale pile."
Nick watched Octavia's face as she studied the paintings. She had the same expression of rapt attention that she'd had when she looked at Carson's pictures. She was taking this seriously, he thought. Given that two of the people who had asked for her opinion were conspiracy freaks and the third ran an adult bookstore, it was going above and beyond the call of duty to show such respect.
She walked slowly past all four paintings and stopped in front of the one that looked as if it had been painted with a brush that had been dipped in chaos. She looked at it for a long time.
Then she crouched in front of it, heedless of the fact that the change of position caused her long, pale skirts to sweep across the dusty floorboards. She gazed intently at what looked like a scribble in the right-hand comer.
"Hmm," she said.
Everyone went very still. Nick was amused. He could feel the sudden tension that had leaped to life in the room.
"Does anyone know where or how Thurgarton got this picture?" Octavia asked, never taking her attention away from the painting.
Virgil shook his head. "We found it with the others in a closet. No way to tell how he came by it. Why?"
"I hesitate to say anything at this point because I don't want anyone to get too excited."
"Too late," Nick said. "We're excited. Is this thing valuable?"
Arizona frowned. "Looks like the artist dumped the contents of several tubes of paint on the canvas and smeared them around."
Virgil smiled. "That's mid-twentieth-century art for you."
Photon contemplated the abstract painting with a considering air. "The longer one looks at it, the deeper it appears. It is clearly an exploration of the absence of light."
Nick looked at him. "You think?"
"Yes." Photon inclined his gleaming head. "It is a statement of man's craving for light and his simultaneous fear of its power."
Octavia rose slowly to her feet and turned around to face the others.
"I agree with you, Photon," she said quietly. "And if we're right, it may be the work of Thomas Upsall. The signature certainly fits. He always signed his work in a very distinctive manner. And his technique was also quite unique. A very time-consuming method that required layer upon layer of paint."
"Wow," Nick said. "A genuine Thomas Upsall. Who would have believed it? Wait until this news hits the art world."
She gave him a reproving frown. "Very funny. Obviously you don't recognize the artist."
"Nope, can't say that I do."
"Me, either." Arizona looked hopeful. "This Thomas Upsall, was he famous or anything?"
"He produced most of his paintings in the nineteen-fifties," Octavia said. "His pictures were not very popular at the time, but in the past few years they have become extremely collectible. There isn't a lot of his work around because he destroyed a great quantity of it during the last year of his life. He died in the mid-eighties, alone and forgotten."
"What do you think this thing's worth?" Arizona asked.
Octavia looked at the painting over her shoulder. "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."
