Learn Me Right

16. Provenance

There was an old painting of an historical family and a young couple in formal attire in their lounge room.

The man adjusted the frame and said, "Okay, right about there."

The woman giggled. "I can't believe we actually bought this thing."

"There's a reason charity auctions have an open bar."

They stared at it for a moment.

"Don't you think... I don't know, it's kinda creepy?"

The man fondled her back and pulled down the zip of her dress. "It's okay, I'll keep you safe."

"Maybe you're the one I oughta be scared of?" They kissed. "Let's go upstairs."

"Give me two minutes to lock up." She kissed him lingeringly. "Give me one minute."

He pinched her behind, she squealed and ran upstairs. The eyes of the father in the painting followed her, then his head turned to watch the man lock up. The man looked around as if he heard a noise, then continued to key the security code in.

Someone was moving slowly up the stairs.

The woman said from upstairs, "If you don't hurry up I'm gonna start without you!"

A shadow appeared in the bedroom doorway, she smiled. A gust of wind blew out her bedside candle.

The man moved up the stairs, undoing his trousers. He entered the darkened room. "Babe, get the lights. I can't see a thing."

He threw his shirt aside and knelt on the bed. There was a squishing noise.

"You spill something?" He leaned to turn on the bedside lamp. His hand was dripping with blood. "Ann?"

Ann was lying on the bed covered in blood, eyes open and staring.

"Ann? ANN!!"

He fell backward onto the floor, freaking out. A shadow appeared over him. He turned to look and began screaming.

INT. BAR

Dean and a young woman leaned close together at the bar as the woman said, "Seven, Four, Two, Zero."

Dean keyed into his phone. "Seven, Four, Two, Zero. All right, you're in there. Perfect. So is that Brandy with a 'y' or an 'i'?"

Sam and Phoebe sat at a table strewn with papers. Sam gestured to Dean, who gave them a 'wait' gesture as he laughed at something the woman whispered. Sam gestured again and Dean's smile dropped.

"All right, listen, I gotta go," Dean said. "Hold that thought, I'll be right back, okay?" He approached Sam, holding two beers.

"All right, I think I got something," Sam told him.

Dean glanced back at the bar. "Oh yeah, me too. I think we need to take a little shore leave, just a little bit. What do you think, huh? I'm so in the door with this one."

"So what are we today Dean? I mean, are we rock stars, are we army rangers?"

Dean grinned. "Reality TV scouts, looking for people with special skills. I mean hey, it's not that far off right? By the way, she's got a friend over there. Possibly hook you you up. What do you think?"

"Dean, no thanks, I can get my own dates."

"Yeah you can but you don't. Isn't it time to call it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. What you got?"

"Mark and Ann Telesca of New Paltz, New York were both found dead in their own home, a few days ago. Throats were slit. There were no prints, no murder weapons, all..."