“Uh-huh. This is a great dog, mister.”
“The dog’s Moe, I’m Flynn. Zoe, can Simon take Moe back out so they can run around like maniacs for a while?”
“Sure. Twenty minutes, Simon, then you hit the books.”
“Sweet!”
“Straight out the back,” Flynn told him. “There’s a ball out there with toothmarks and drool all over it. He likes you to chase it and fetch it back to him.”
“You’re funny,” Simon decided. “Let’s go, Moe!”
“Pizza,” Dana announced when the bell rang. “Want to call him back?”
“No, he’s fine. He just finished eating three helpings of spaghetti.”
“Flynn, be a man. Pay for the pizza.”
“Why do I always have to be the man?” Then he zeroed in on Malory and grinned. “Oh, yeah. That’s why.”
Dana sat on the floor with a fresh notebook in her lap. “Let’s be organized about this. The librarian in me demands it. Zoe, pour yourself some wine. We can each report what we’ve found or thought or speculated on since the last time we got together.”
“I haven’t found much.” Zoe took a folder out of her canvas bag. “I typed up all my notes, though.”
“Aren’t you a good girl?” Delighted, Dana took the folder, then pounced on the first box of pizza when Flynn dropped two of them on the coffee table. “I’m starving.”
“There’s news.” He sat on the sofa beside Malory, turned her face toward him with his hand, then kissed her long and firm. “Hi.”
“Gee, don’t I get one of those?”
At Zoe’s question, he shifted and leaned toward her, but she laughed and gave him a light shove. “I’d better settle for the wine.”
“If Flynn’s finished kissing girls,” Dana began.
“Which won’t be until I’ve drawn my last, gasping breath.”
“Settle down,” Dana ordered. “We know about Mal’s experience. I have the typed report of it here, which I’ll add to the collection of notes and other data.”
“I’ve got more.” Since it was there, Malory took a slice of pizza from the box and dropped it onto a paper plate. “I have a list of people—clients through The Gallery—who’ve purchased or shown interest in classical and/or mythological subject matter in art. I’ve also started a search of like styles, but that’s going to take some time. I intend to start making phone inquiries tomorrow.”
“I could help,” Zoe offered. “I was thinking that maybe we should do a search for paintings that include the element of a key. Like a theme.”
“That’s good,” Malory acknowledged, and tore a sheet off the roll of paper towels that stood in for napkins.
“I’ve got some appointments tomorrow, but I’ll work around them.”
“I’ve been working on the clue itself.” Dana picked up her wineglass. “I’m wondering if we should take some of the key phrases and do a search on place names. Like restaurants or shops. Take the Singing Goddess, for example. I didn’t find anything on that, but it’s the sort of thing that could be the name of a shop or a restaurant or a site.”
“Not bad,” Flynn said and helped himself to another slice of pizza.
“I’ve got some more.” Still she said nothing as she reached into the box herself, topped off her wine. “I put in some Internet time running the three names Malory heard in her . . . in her dream. “Niniane” comes up a few times. Some legends have her as the sorceress who enchanted Arthur’s Merlin and trapped him in the cave of crystal. There’s another that has her as Merlin’s mother. But when I put her together with the other two, I found one hit from this esoteric little site on goddess worship. It gives a variation on the Daughters of Glass—and calls them by those names.”
“Those are their names. You can’t think it’s a coincidence that I dreamed those names and you found them today.”
“No,” Dana said carefully. “But isn’t it possible you came across the same site and the names stuck in your head?”
“No. I would’ve written it down. I would’ve remembered. I never heard them before the dream.”
“Okay.” Flynn patted her knee. “First, I’ll tell you I haven’t found any record of a shipping or moving company that serviced Warrior’s Peak. And no record of any company shipping furniture here for clients under Triad.”