Bodies Of Art Mystery: Marked Masters Part 15

"Yes?" My mind continued operating on two levels-past and present, but I needed to focus on the here and now. I sternly reminded myself this night had nothing to do with what happened so long ago and pushed those thoughts out of my head as we moved from the salon into the main hallway. Various rooms branched out to other rooms.

I didn't know what Jack had in mind, but I was having a hard time keeping my time frames straight. Surreal. Forget the art, the hordes of people, the food, and the drinks. The halls were exactly as I remembered them. Like my child's brain had somehow taken an adult video. Was this what the owners planned, or something else I needed to figure out in this mess?

No! I'm looking for connections where none exist. Stop it, stop it, stop it!

It was a historic building. Of course when they remodeled, they returned it to its former appearance as much as possible.

As we strolled through, admiring the art, I did what I do best and put aside my personal issues while admiring the exhibits of women's artistry and their roles as subjects from the Renaissance to the present. Too much to do, talking, laughing, drinking, and looking to make connections. I couldn't choke down a thing to eat, however, and apparently neither could Jack. As we lingered and moved on, more and more people joined the ma.s.ses, and many familiar faces showed up.

See and be seen would sum it up well. Jack and I momentarily split up, came back together, and kept tabs on one another throughout the evening.

On my way back to Jack, after a short departure to visit with an old donor of Beacham's, someone grabbed me by the waist and whirled me around, briefly hugging me. "Laurel!"

Rollie. Dressed to the nines in a navy velvet suit with silk lapels. His hair, longer than the last time I'd seen him in person, fell over his shoulder until he flipped it back.

"Nice to see you," I said, giving him a warm smile, playing the game.

"Is that all you have to say? It is nice to see me?" He reached out and straightened a lock of my hair. His smiling eyes were just as I remembered them. "I've missed you, Laurel Beacham. I thought we had something good between us, and poof! Nothing. Please explain." His teeth were straight and white and shone like the sun. Such a gorgeous man with such dubious family connections and an utterly horrific taste in friends-maybe.

"I don't remember receiving a call from you." I looked at him questioningly.

"I did not want to intrude. But say the word, and I shall be available night or day."

I laughed at his obvious reference. "I have no doubt of that. No doubt at all." I held out my hand. "Now, I really must be off. I'm here with a friend."

"Oh, is that the way it is blowing? I get the photograph now."

"Picture, Rollie. You get the picture." After all I'd learned about him, I wondered if his struggle with English was fake or real.

"Of course, of course. Picture." He held my shoulders and kissed me in continental fashion. "As always, a pleasure to see you. You are such a beautiful woman. You remind me of someone-did I ever tell you that?" He shook his head. "No, I don't think I did. bientt, Laurel."

He'd see me soon? Not if I had anything to do with it. I watched him walk away, greeting an older woman affectionately. What did he mean I reminded him of someone?

I ran Jack down as he laughed with another man, and I indicated we needed to talk. He introduced us and quickly made excuses so we could break away. "What's up?"

"Rollie."

"Here?"

"Yes." A pa.s.sing waiter swanned by with a tray of full gla.s.ses, and I accepted one to keep my hands busy.

"He talked with you?"

I briefly described the conversation, leaving out the "remind me of someone" part.

"Did you-"

"I played the game like you said to do. Acted like nothing was wrong, didn't object when he hugged me. So on and so forth." Jack's eyes narrowed. "I did not make a date, however. I told him I was here with someone else."

"You didn't mention my name?"

I shook my head. "No. It literally didn't occur to me to do so. I think he approached me only because you weren't around." I walked away. Of course he caught up with me, and the game continued.

When I'd had enough, I extricated myself delicately by mentioning the ladies' room, and Jack politely, albeit reluctantly, let me go with a promise to have a fresh drink for me upon my return. White-knight, control-freak syndrome style.

He was nowhere in sight when I returned to the spot where I'd left him, so I drifted and smiled and became generally bored with our great idea.

The crowd was getting heavier than I'd expected, and the jostling became more full-bodied than I liked. When my clutch was knocked from under my arm and skittered on the floor under the Giorgio and Valentino gowns, I called the game and decided to make it an evening.

It took some time for my bag to finish its football scrimmage and get returned to me. I didn't want to appear gauche and look then to see if anything was missing. I did the mental weighing bit however, also giving the bag a thoughtful squeeze before determining the clutch felt as if everything was accounted for.

I raised up on my toes, trying to spot Jack to give him the "let's leave" signal. But when I did see him, it was because he appeared at my elbow and pulled me back down to normal height before whispering, "Quick! Look over there."

He inclined his head, and I gazed toward the north end of the room. I didn't recognize anyone or see anything amiss, so I whispered back, "What do you mean?"

"The blonde with the short hair and the killer black dress. It's your friend Tina."

I laughed and patted his arm. "Oh, Jack, I have to learn when to cut you off. How many drinks have you had tonight?"

"I'm serious, Laurel."

Suddenly, I saw that he was. The laughter died in my throat, and I looked again at the blonde across the room. "Tina's dead. The homicide detective confirmed it."

"Did you see the body?"

"The homicide d-"

"Did you see the body?" His gaze bore into mine, and suddenly those lovely teal eyes gave a hint of menace.

I swallowed hard. "Thankfully, no."

"Then I guarantee you the woman over there is Tina Schroeder. And since I don't believe in reanimation or reincarnation, I'd say something more sinister is going on."

As Jack talked, he'd been pulling me closer toward the north end of the room. "Look past the makeup. It's quite different, I know. An expert job, just like the hair. But bone structure never lies."

"What are you?" I twisted to face him. "Some kind of human face-recognition software?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I am." His voice held a tinge of steel. "No joking here, look closely. Don't let the professional camouflage fool you."

I did as he asked, attempted a mental strip of the carefully applied makeup-managed by a professional or ber-practiced hand. And like dawn breaking, I suddenly saw exactly what Jack had been saying. My hand shot to my mouth to hide my shocked words as I whispered, "OhmiG.o.d, you're right. I would never have seen it if you hadn't pointed her out to me."

At that same moment, her gaze locked on mine, and she straightened a bit taller. Her look said it all-she knew that I knew.

In the next second, a waiter pa.s.sed between her and us, and she deposited her gla.s.s on the departing tray. I watched Jack break away and head in the same direction as the waiter, and I knew he was going to grab the gla.s.s for a fingerprint comparison. Time to confront Tina. I turned to again face her direction and realized she was gone.

Unfortunately, I had a new problem. A smarmy voice spoke from behind me. "I didn't think he was ever going to leave."

I whirled. "Tony B-"

"Miss me, Laurel?" He reached for my arm, but I sidestepped him, staying just a bit out of range.

"No, there are so many old friends here tonight, I hadn't even had a chance to think about you," I said, opening my clutch and letting my fingers search for one of my picks, never taking my eyes off the snake.

He shifted to outflank me, keeping an eye on Jack's progress. "Looks like you have a new friend. First at the Browning. Now here. Interesting."

I slipped around an older couple, both short enough that I could still see Tony B. They were carrying on a spirited conversation in Italian and didn't seem to realize they were the net in our game of verbal badminton. I risked a step back, throwing out a quick volley to keep his mind occupied. "Did you know Tina Schroeder is still alive?"

He offered one of his nonchalant shrugs. "I never said she wasn't."

And he hadn't. That was true. I'd a.s.sumed he was keeping the information from me. He was using it to his advantage, to let me be part of the ruse.

"So who really died, Tony B?"

He tsked. "Is this really the kind of conversation we need to be having in such an opulent setting?"

I thought about The Portrait of Three, their theft from this very place on a night just like this one, and the fact that the current... No, not owner. I couldn't even pretend to go so far... Curator. Yes, that worked. The fact the current curator was on the premises, in a building I'd already noted was eerily restored to exactly the appearance of the previous time. Well, I wasn't born yesterday.

"You're here to return the paintings."

"The new owner wants to be able to see the beauties every morning."

The new owner. Ermo Colle. Who was that really? But then I thought about how Tony B worded his remark. He hadn't said he was returning the originals. I figured I'd better keep my epiphany to myself.

I saw Jack looking for me, Tina's gla.s.s safely tucked into the pocket of his jacket. "Over here," I called gaily, forcing a smile. "Look, Jack, it's Tony B."

"Touche," Tony B said, taking a step back and to the side as Jack began shoving his way through the crowd. "But I leave you with one last bit of advice."

"Why would I ever want advice from you?"

"Because we go way back. And this advice is very important. That man is not who he says he is. You're headed for a huge disappointment. But don't worry. I'm doing you a big favor. Just wait."

"Well, the joke is on you, Tony B. He won't tell me who he is, so how can I be disappointed?"

In that instant, the crowd did its conjuring trick, and Tony B disappeared just like Tina had. A moment later, Jack was again at my side.

"Are you okay?"

"I want to leave, Jack. This isn't fun anymore."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

The party was over as far as either of us was concerned, but we stayed alert and made the circuit to get out of the building, just on the off chance we saw either of our unwelcome fellow attendees. We'd made headway, sure, but the emotional toll was more than I antic.i.p.ated. As we finally exited, Jack pulled out his phone and sent a couple of texts. I tried to wait patiently in the overly lit area, but when I could no longer ignore the feeling of being watched from every direction, I said, "I feel like a target here."

"Sorry. Let's go." Jack tucked my free hand back under his arm and held tight, just like he'd done ever since he came up on me with Tony B. For once, I didn't feel controlled as much as grateful. I wanted him close.

When we got a good distance from the building, he explained. "My text let people know we were leaving and who we discovered at the event. They'll check out the rest of the gallery opening, but I don't think they'll find anything. I also think we can safely a.s.sume we made an impression tonight."

I started trembling and pulled the shawl tight. He removed his jacket to place it around my shoulders. I wasn't cold, and both of us knew it, but I appreciated the gesture and said so. "Thank you, Jack."

He nodded and pulled me down onto a short wall that ran along the street. Then he asked a bit hesitantly, "I did get back in time, didn't I?"

I took a deep breath and tried to smile. "Don't worry. He just played mind games with me."

"Those can often be more serious than physical torture."

No kidding. "It's just been too many unknowns. He was counting on that."

He turned brusque. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're always hungry." He opened the coat I wore and pulled a flask from an inside pocket. "Here, drink this."

"What is it?"

"Brandy. A couple of swallows will take care of the sick feeling, and then you'll be ravenous."

"How did you know?"

"Signs of shock are easily recognizable."

We try to fool ourselves, but I apparently wasn't fooling him. I followed orders and learned he knew what he was talking about. I felt better almost instantly.

Without further ado, he stood up and pulled me back to my feet. "Come on. I know a place close by."

In the tiny restaurant, after Jack palmed some euros to the capo cameriere, we were led to a secluded table in the back corner. I surrendered his jacket and asked to be excused. Jack shot me a look.

"I solemnly swear I only want to use the restroom. I'll be right back. This ladies' ritual is part of getting back to normal."

Jack reluctantly pointed the way. "I'm tempted to go with you. You have no idea how tempted."

"I promise I'll return. Besides, you were right. I'm definitely up for some food."

"Laurel, I-"

"I promise. I really want to pull myself together." Translate: fix my appearance and call Nico in private.

Once in the bathroom, I picked at my hair to get it looking in better shape. When I reached in the clutch to grab my gloss, my hands found something else instead, something I hadn't put in there.

A woman's compact, fourteen carat if I wasn't mistaken, and I knew I wasn't. This was an old one, probably from the 1970s. For a second my mind went to-bomb!-but I dismissed the possibility as absurd. It would have already gone off. I opened it, and a sweet smell filled the air, the comfortable aroma acquired by good face powder when kept on a shelf for a long time. A piece of folded paper sat atop the old puff. I almost didn't want to pick it up but knew I had to. I placed the compact on the marble counter, reached for the paper, and carefully unfolded it.