Kicking the Can

Kicking the Can by Scott C. Glennie Page B

Book: Kicking the Can by Scott C. Glennie Read Free Book Online
Authors: Scott C. Glennie
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Retail
gave her body athletic definition. She turned, studying him, her face expressionless. She did not speak. Her black hair was parted in the center and pulled back with a ribbon. She put down the brush and pushed strands of renegade hair behind her ears. The circumference of her wrists and arms, reed thin, reminded him of a swan. Her well-defined clavicle and long neck revealed her body definition was more gaunt than athletic. She turned back to the canvas.
    “If you want sit down, upholstered seat in bay window is comfortable.” She pointed toward the window with the brush in her hand.
    “You have favorite artist? I find answer reveal much about person.”
    Drummond considered the question. Images of Sarah flooded his conscience; he fought to verbalize a response.
    “When my daughter was in fifth grade, her teacher taught an artist awareness module. Each student chose a famous artist. They memorized biographical information and painted a rendering of the artist’s work. Ribbons were awarded for best artistic impression. Sarah selected Mary Cassatt. She’s the one artist I can speak of with detail.”
    “Tell me about her work.”
    “She was an American painter in the 1800s—an impressionist. Her works depict the lives of women, the special bond between mothers and children. Sarah picked Cassatt as a tribute to her mom.”
    “Who’s your favorite artist?”
    “Doesn’t my dossier tell?”
    “No.”
    “What does it tell?”
    “You graduated at age twenty-six with an advanced degree in statistics. You live in Shanghai, where you’ve been working for five years. You received national recognition for your work with China’s largest state-owned utility…something to do with stochastic optimization.”
    “Make me sound boring.”
    “That wasn’t my impression.”
    “You forecast energy demand based upon population growth and other independent variables, but what is the ‘stochastic’ piece?”
    “Instead of arbitrary choosing value such as ‘best case’ or ‘worst case,’ we randomize values for independent variables. We do this by identifying distribution of known universe of value for each independent variable. A bell-shaped curve is example of distribution. Monte Carlo Simulation is example of stochastic modeling technique. Stochastic modeling shown to improve accuracy of forecasts—clear as mud puddle?”
    “Yes.”
    Drummond was transfixed by the rhythmic motion and soft swishing sound the brush made as it swept across the canvas.
    “What does
Gao fen di neng
mean? It’s a phrase printed in your dossier, but there was no explanation.”
    Jiang stopped painting. The brush was dipped in mineral spirits and meticulously wiped, an exercise she’d likely repeated thousands of times. She turned to face Drummond, her eyes watery, her face still expressionless.
    In a high-pitched, forcible scream, she yelled—“Get hell out of here!”
    Drummond, startled by her emotional outburst, jumped to his feet and sprinted toward the door, trying to put space between himself and Jiang. Before he passed through the doorjamb, a glass vase crashed into the wall, inches from his head; shards cut his neck and cheek.

36
    P eter Lowsley smiled, revealing the definition of his cheekbones. His bony grip felt like Drummond was shaking hands with a skeleton in college anatomy class.
    “I could’ve guessed you’re a runner without reading your dossier.”
    “At five feet eleven and one hundred thirty-five pounds, I break the scale. When you’re born and raised in Track Town, USA, any athlete with Prefontaine’s body type is expected to be a distance runner. That sounds like I was pressured into it—I wasn’t. I love to run.”
    “I don’t run competitively, but I do enjoy a good cardio workout. If you’re up for it, why don’t we run a lap or two around the island? It’ll give us a chance to visit,” Drummond said.
    “Seriously? It’s eighty-five degrees outside.”
    “I enjoy the heat. I run late

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