Thomas Kinkade Evening Glow painting

Thomas Kinkade Evening Glow paintingThomas Kinkade CHRISTMAS MEMORIES paintingThomas Kinkade Boston painting
with a price.In this case, of course, the price had been greater for Brittina than for him.He dressed quickly. In his stocking feet, he descended the narrow stairs to the cramped kitchen at the back of the house.His yellow slicker and rain hat hung on a wall peg in the small screened porch off the kitchen. His black boots stood to one side of the slicker.Rain crashed in such heavy cascades upon the porch roof that it [396] sounded like a downpour in the jungled tropics. He half expected to see grinning crocodiles in the backyard and pythons slithering in the trees.He others in the house led down from the kitchen to a garage in which three of the four walls were underground. Gloom gathered here as luxuriously slipped the pistol into one of the capacious pockets of the slicker. From another pocket he withdrew a length of flexible rubber tubing and an object that resembled a snack-size container of yogurt, though it was black with a red lid and featured no illustrations of luscious fruit.With no reason remaining to be respectful of Brittina’s clean floors, he pulled on his boots and returned to the house. The deep wet tread of his rubber soles squeaked on the vinyl tile in the kitchen.His work was not yet completed. He had left behind evidence that would convict him of murder. Semen, hair, fingerprints—all must be eliminated.From the day that he’d begun visiting this pinched place, months previously, he had gone without the latex gloves that he customarily wore at the scenes of capital crimes. Even though Brittina Dowd was nothing if not an eccentric, she would surely have grown suspicious of a lover who at all times wore surgical gloves.Steeper and narrower stairs than any