The Portrait of Doreene Gray by Esri Allbritten

writing on it.” Michael took off his glasses and held a strip up to the light. “‘Soul, night, lost…’”
    Suki turned her strip over. “Oh, hey, look at that.” She took another photo.
    Doreene’s face was red. “Why is there paper in the soup, Lupita?”
    Lupita squinted at her in apparent incomprehension. “There’s no paper. It’s noodles.”
    Angus squinted at the faded writing on his strip. “‘Satan, Beelzebub, El Diablo …’”
    Lupita and Reynaldo crossed themselves simultaneously.
    â€œDios mio,” Lupita moaned.
    Reynaldo closed his eyes and rocked back and forth, murmuring rapidly in Portuguese.
    â€œLupita, get your things and get out,” Doreene ordered.
    â€œBut I didn’t put paper in the soup!” she wailed.
    â€œThen who did?!”
    â€œI don’t know, but it wasn’t me, I swear!” Lupita clasped her hands to her chest.
    Doreene stared at her, breathing heavily, then crumpled the bit of paper in her hand. “Maureene must have done it. She went into the kitchen.”
    Angus spoke to Lupita. “How long has the soup been in the kitchen?”
    â€œSince this morning. Miss Doreene told me yesterday that she wanted chicken noodle soup.”
    â€œAnd who else has been in the kitchen today, besides Maureene?”
    Lupita bit her lip in thought. “Mr. Reynaldo came in and asked where we put the scissors.”
    Doreene turned on Reynaldo. “It was you?”
    â€œ Cara, no! I had a thread on my sleeve I wanted to cut.” He raised his forearm.
    â€œThat’s true,” Lupita said. “He showed it to me.”
    â€œAnyone else?” Angus asked.
    Lupita looked at Doreene, one shoulder hunched. “Miss Doreene did, to tell me not to put too much salt in.”
    â€œI wouldn’t put paper in my own soup,” Doreene said scathingly.
    â€œNo, ma’am.”
    â€œWas the back door to the house locked?” Michael asked.
    Lupita shook her head. “I’m supposed to leave it open during the day, for Miss Maureene.”
    â€œI never told you to do that!” Doreene said.
    â€œShe did, a long time ago. You’re not here a lot, so I thought it was okay.”
    â€œAnd were you in the kitchen all the time the soup was cooking?” Angus asked.
    â€œNo,” Lupita said. “When the soup was cooking, I went to clean the rooms.” She sniffed wetly. “Please don’t fire me, Miss Doreene.”
    Doreene stared into space and heaved a sigh. “I suppose you can stay on until I sell the house, but I’ll be watching you.” She glared at Lupita.
    â€œYou want the rest of the food?” Lupita asked, voice quavering.
    â€œNo.” Doreene waved her hand in a shooing motion.
    Lupita left the room, head bent. A moment later, the sounds of muffled sobs could be heard from the kitchen.
    Reynaldo put his hand on Doreene’s arm. “ Cara  … It is the painting doing this. You have to get rid of it.”
    Doreene rolled her eyes at him. “I am getting rid of it.”
    â€œNo, I mean now.” He gripped her wrist. “Take it out and burn it.”
    Doreene jerked away. “Don’t be stupid. It’s worth a fortune.”
    Reynaldo gazed at her solemnly. “What is your soul worth, princessa ?”
    Doreene’s lips twitched, and then she laughed. “Oh, Reynaldo, you provincial little boy.” She patted his cheek, and he turned his face away. “This isn’t the Devil, it’s just someone with a grudge.”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œNever mind.” She tapped her fingers on the table, then looked at Angus. “You say you’re in Port Townsend through the weekend?”
    He nodded.
    â€œWhy don’t you stay here, at the house? Maybe you can figure out what’s behind this.”
    â€œWe’re not paranormal investigators,” Angus