Free Boomerang by Sydney J. Bounds Page B

Jean Michel on her hull. A man in a blue jersey watched him, spat, and swore in French. His boat looked rather amateurish to Miss Eaton.
    “Still struggling with your boats, Sammy? Why don’t you try another subject?”
    Jacobi grinned. “I’ve got a thing about boats. I just hope I’ll improve with practice.”
    “Yes, well, boats aren’t the easiest things to draw—especially to get them to look as if they’re floating in water. Later on, try one that’s beached.”
    Parry inspected the box of oil paints.
    “You’ve got plenty of paint there, so don’t be afraid to use it. At the moment, you’re using too much thinner. It isn’t water-colour, so lay it on thick and juicy. Try using a palette knife to lay your paint straight from the tube. I want to see some pure colour when I come round next.”
    “All right, Keith, I’ll have a go. Nice and thick, just as you say.”
    Jacobi’s paint-box was brand new, Miss Eaton noted, and wondered if he’d ever painted before.
    As they left the harbour, Parry remarked, “Some people will never be much good, but that’s not important. If they enjoy painting, they deserve to be encouraged.”
    They walked along the shore to where Linda and Margo were working close together. The sea broke in a froth of foam over blue-veined rocks. Both painters seemed glad to take a rest when their tutor arrived.
    He looked at Margo’s picture first. To Miss Eaton, it appeared to be a swirl of criss-crossing lines drawn with coloured crayons and blue ink.
    Parry said, approvingly, “Nice one, Margo. I’m pleased to see someone trying something different. Yes, I like it—just carry on the way you’re going.”
    Miss Eaton looked at the wild eddy of lines intended to represent waves breaking over rocks and thought: she could be a wild card, free with her love—and hate.
    Parry turned to the blonde girl.
    “Now, Linda, first of all you’re attempting something a bit beyond you for the moment. Water-colour is a difficult medium to start with—and the movement of water is not an easy subject for a beginner.”
    He clipped his pad to her drawing board. “Let me show you how to set about it.”
    Linda rose from her three-legged stool and Parry sat down.
    Miss Eaton watched, fascinated.
    With a few strokes of a soft pencil, he indicated the position of the rocks. He loaded a sable brush with cobalt blue and swept in the sky with a horizontal wash. Quickly mixing ultra marine with some green he covered the sea area. Wiping his brush on a rag, he used the dry brush to wipe out the sea where it foamed over the rocks. The gleaming white of the paper suddenly became spray.
    “Like that,” he said, rising. “Work quickly. Go for the broad masses. Use a large brush, and try one quick sketch after another.”
    “That’s great,” Linda enthused. “D’you think I’ll ever be able to do anything as good as that?”
    “Perhaps in time. It takes a lot of practice—so just keep at it.”
    “I will,” Linda said fervently.
    And she might be a girl who’d do that, Miss Eaton thought. A girl who’d stay with something—or someone. Like Duke, if she set her mind to save him.
    Linda turned to Miss Eaton and asked, “Are you really a private detective?”
    “Sure am.”
    Linda sighed. “It must be an exciting life. I get bored working in an office, just filing and typing.”
    “This is the first time I’ve come up against murder. Usually it’s something much more mundane. I think you’d find the waiting and watching just as boring.”
    Margo snorted. “Well, you’ll get no help from me. Bullard got what he asked for—and I told the Inspector so.”
    “Perhaps that was a bit tactless,” Miss Eaton suggested. “You’re a suspect, like the rest of us.”
    “He won’t try to pin it on Duke, will he?” Linda asked anxiously.
    “Why should he?”
    The young girl hesitated, then lowered her voice. “You see, Duke’s been in trouble with the law before. Nothing serious,