The Dead Cartoonist (continues) Our story: American cartoonist/correspondent Nate has gotten involved in solving the kidnapping of the much more famous comic strip artist Milt Morey. Now Moreys daughter Maya and girlfriend Crina are looking through the secretive Moreys bank and investment files to see if they can find enough money to pay the ransom. Crina made more coffee. No matter what happened in her life, it always seemed to require she make a trip to the kitchen to prepare coffee, or wine, or cake for someone else. Waiting on people. As she opened the cabinet to get cups, her toe touched something that skittered away. She picked it up. It was the red plastic top to the can of whipped cream spray she had thrown away a week ago. Milt had brought home tarts from the bakery and wanted whipped cream on top, which she had naturally provided to him. Pie and cake, coffee and wine. When she returned to the studio Maya still sat in front of Milton’s laptop computer, going through directories. Neither of them knew his web browser password, so that valuable source was unavailable, but there were many document files and downloads stored in the directory, and at least a dozen plug-in drives in the drawer. So far they had only found a couple of pages that had to do with money, and only in unworthy amounts. They had been at this for two hours while the American went to write his dispatches and check out of his hotel. “I’m sure there’s something more.” Maya spoke without looking up. Crina did not offer an opinion on this. For one, she did not know anything about Milt’s money. For two, she had never cared to know. Maya said her father made so much money, he must have a hundred thousand euros somewhere, and if they could just get access to it, she would use that for the ransom. “There’s coffee in the kitchen.” Crina spoke to Maya in English, as a courtesy. She felt that Maya, though she spoke Spanish, was more comfortable in her mother tongue. Maya nodded, but continue to click through the files. “I just don’t understand it.” That was one comment too many, since they all acutely indicated that Crina knew where the money was, and would somehow profit from it. Crina said, “Milton is very secretive, as you know.” “Yes, I know, but there’s nothing here but an old insurance policy and—” Crina sat in the chair next to the desk, where she had been going through some boxes of old papers. She was now going to have to begin a having of relationship with this girl, who detested her. It was uncomfortable to do. “We have never talked, really, you and I.” That did not stop Maya from rolling and clicking, but Crina could tell by the sideways glance of her eyes that she was certainly listening. “You should know that Milton has not given me baskets of money. He is as tight to me as he is to you.” Maya was clearly affronted by this impertinence. “I would not disrespect my father by putting a verdict on what he spends, or gives.” “Nor would I,” said Crina. “That’s the point. But whatever he has given you, he has given me less. And I know he has not given you much.” Maya blushed.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 11:30:01 +0000
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