Sherlock and Me (The Case of the Starry Night)

  “Have you cleaned theater two?”

  “…Nope. On my way. See you later.”

  As he walked away, I shook my head. No. Absolutely no way… I was ashamed that my brain for one nanosecond could even think it. He sleeps his way through the job and holes up wherever. Marvin’s energy level wasn’t sufficient to keep a snail moving.

  Whatever happened to ruling no one out, I argued with myself.

  Let’s not be ridiculous. I went into the office to catch up on paperwork. Kevin was gone again today and had left a pile of bills and letters for me to go through.

  The two new guys that Kevin had hired recently both had on work boots today too. Apparently, most men in the free world wore boots like that. We were going to have to raise Eric’s camera into a higher position to better identify these criminals.

  After work, I headed over to the hospital. The rumor was out that Bobby was awake and I was concerned.

  Concerned that whoever beat him up might come back…

  Concerned that maybe he really saw something…

  Concerned that his injuries were life threatening.

  Sue had called to get a report from me and I promised to visit her the next day or two. I had quite a lot to tell her actually, but wasn’t really too sure how much I should say. I hadn’t ruled her out either. Both she and Eric were in my nebulous column of suspects. My brain kept flashing a message to me that I hadn’t looked hard enough at a few things. I was determined to look harder at everything.

  At the hospital, Bobby was awake. His facial bruises had faded to lighter shades of blues and yellows in the healing process.

  “Do you feel like talking, Bobby?”

  “… Sure, Lucy. Have a seat. Nothing on the tube…” He gave me a winning smile and pointed toward a nearby chair.

  “Glad to see you’re feeling better. The first time I was here, you didn’t look so hot.”

  He gave a short, dark laugh. “…I bet. I wasn’t feeling so hot either.”

  I glanced around the stark, sterile room. “You could use a brighter coat of paint in here.”

  “To say the least. How’s work?”

  “It’s fine. Listen, Bobby…” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. Where’d this furniture come from – the Marquis de Sade’s sitting room?

  “Do you remember going to see the Impressionist exhibition at the art museum?”

  “I do…It was breathtaking.”

  “Tell me your impressions.”

  He smiled at my puny joke and pushed back some light hair from his forehead. “…Gee, where to start? The exhibition was terrific. I’d never been able to afford to go to Europe to see Cezanne, Manet, Monet or Renoir in the Louvre or the Prado. Having them come to me was a rare treat.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “Oh, hours… I gazed and wandered, looked and looked some more. I had a sandwich in that café downstairs and went back up to continue gazing. Then I started drawing a few of them.”

  “In the café, did you see the owner?”

  “…Who?”

  “A short, balding man named Russell Crowe.”

  “You’re kidding…”

  I shook my head ruefully. “…’Fraid not.”

  “No. No man like that was there.”

  He glanced around the room, not quite meeting my eyes.

  “You didn’t mention the Van Gogh painting, Starry Night.”

  “Oh? Didn’t I? Great painting. Impressive brush strokes. Van Gogh really piled on the paint.”

  “And…”

  “And what?”

  I hoped I was looking like I didn’t believe him. “That’s all you have to say about one of the world’s greatest artists?”

  “…Ah. Yeah… Interesting painting.”

  “Bobby…”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “What aren’t you saying?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “… Were you drawing the Van Gogh? And if so, did you notice anything slightly off about the painting?”

  His eyes finally slid over to mine. “Lucy…”

  “I have my own suspicions. Hang on a minute.” I went to the door, looked both ways out in the hallway and then closed the door tightly. When I returned to my chair, Bobby’s eyes were wide and wary.

  “Want to know what I think?”

  “…Okay.”

  “I think the Van Gogh is a forgery. I think most of the paintings in the exhibition are forgeries. How could you tell about the Van Gogh?”

  Bobby shifted in his bed and cast his eyes everywhere, looking for I don’t know what.

  “Bobby?”

  He looked down at his hands. They looked relatively normal compared to his poor face. He spoke so low that I had to scoot my chair up to hear him.

  “I was copying the Van Gogh when I noticed an odd brushstroke. It was very small and normally wouldn’t be seen, but the light was a little off in that section of the gallery. I think a bulb was blown or something and a fragment of light hit it just right. Or just wrong… However you want to think of it.”

  “What did you think?”

  “I know this painting very well and couldn’t believe my eyes. I even went downstairs to the gift shop and bought a book on Van Gogh to check to see if my memory was playing tricks on me like my eyes were.”

  I leaned in. “… What did you discover?”

  “That I was right and there was something wrong with the Van Gogh.”

  “Now, Bobby. Think hard for my next question – Did you see anyone around?”

  “Well, sure. There were various people looking at all the paintings in the exhibition.”

  “Does anyone stand out in your mind?”

  He thought about that for a minute.

  “…The security guard.”

  “What about him?”

  “He just stared at me. I notice details… He was sloppily dressed for a guard. His shirt was missing a button and there were stains on the front.”

  Bobby’s eyes grew very wide.

  “What?”

  “He followed me out, Lucy. I was one of the last to leave, it was dark and he spooked me. That’s about the last I remember. I turned around to see if he was still behind me and then… Bam! Lights out.”

  The other security guard probably knocked him out from the other way. They’d obviously suspected that Bobby had seen something and were planning on getting rid of him. Thank God they screwed that up.

  “Can you get away from here for a few weeks, Bobby? Anyone you can stay with somewhere else?”

  “Sure. My folks live in Carson City.”

  “Great. Keep it under your hat but get out of here today, if possible, and as quietly as possible. Do you need any money?”

  He shook his head. “What are you planning to do?”

  “Nail these bastards. It’s been coming a while and striking you down was one of the last straws. It’s personal, Bobby.”

  “That’s the time to be careful, Lucy… Know that?”

  “…Just get the hell out of here today. I’ll call you when the coast is clear. All right?”

  His smile lit up his bedraggled face. “…Gotcha. Thanks for caring.”

  “I do care.” Rising from my chair, I added. “I’m serious. Get out of here now. Can you do it?”

  “…Sounds pretty important to my well-being, so yes, thanks – I can do it.”

  “All right. You know how I hate to interview prospective employees, Bobby.”

  He smiled again and reached for his phone.

  I shook my head. “…Don’t tell anyone you’re going or where you are. I’ll cover for you at work. And above all, say nothing of this to anyone – for now.”

  “Thanks, Lucy.”

  I walked out and closed the door quietly behind me. Then I just stood outside until he came out, fully dressed, limping slightly.

  “I called a cab.”

  Sticking a couple of twenties in his hand, I cut him off when his mou
th opened to object. “Go…” He stuffed the money in a pocket and walked toward the exit, not the elevator. I followed him out, making sure he got in that damn cab. Looking all around, I didn’t see any signs of Laurel and Hardy, whom I was going to have to rename. That comedy duo made people laugh and feel good. This duo had elements of comedy too, but nobody was laughing. I’m sure Bobby wasn’t feeling too good either, thanks to them.

  I went home and once again did a sweep of my apartment. I was concerned that there could be a listening device somewhere. I’d read up on more advanced devices, plus I’d been home when that security company did the last sweep. I knew what to look for and looked, but I didn’t find anything. Baskerville sniffed with me, but neither of us could find anything amiss.

  Cindy was at another public relations event that her office had organized, so I was on my own. Sometimes I get into trouble that way, but them’s the breaks, as Sam Spade would say. And as soon as the sun went down, I knew what I was going to do long before my conscious mind told me about it.

  Sue O’Dell. My gut was asking questions I had no answers for. Time to get some answers.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 20

  Unbelievable.

  I’d been on a stakeout of Sue’s house for a few hours now. Unfortunately, I had to bring Baskerville, since he started whining when I swirled on my coat and cap again, leaving the house. Cindy was gone and I’d been gone all day. I couldn’t leave him alone all night too, so I took him on my stakeout with me. He wasn’t the most patient stakeout partner I’ve ever had.

  First, he needed a walk to do his business. Great… Opening the car door even a little made the overhead light flick on. I made him hurry up, but he wasn’t terribly cooperative.

  Then he wanted some food. Well, I didn’t bring any, but I let him share my water. That calmed him down for a while and I was happy when he finally fell asleep. Maybe I could get back to what I wasn’t doing.

  I was starting to doze off when I saw a flicker of movement out the side door of Sue’s house. A figure was getting into a car in the driveway, starting it and backing out. I assumed it was Sue and ducked down until she went past me. Then I started my car and hung back a bit following her. Where was she going?

  Just when I began to think that she was off to her book club or a late dinner with friends, her car pulled into the mostly empty parking lot of a shopping center. No real place for me to hide, so I kept driving and circled back around. When I came back, there was a sleek, black limousine parked by her car… Windows rolled down with Sue and Warren speaking from to one another from their cars.

  Huh…Interesting.

  Were the innocent parties getting worked up? Or were the rats leaving the sinking ship? Hard to tell from fifty yards away and I couldn’t stop. Circling around once again, the limo was pulling away. Sue took off and on a hunch, I decided to follow the sleek limo instead. Nearly two blocks away, Sandstrom pulled into a parking space by the side of the road. I was far enough back to pull over behind him a few spaces and see what was happening. Two big men, the size of gorillas, got out of the car in front of him and got in the car with Warren. I was shaking in my boots from a hundred yards away…I couldn’t imagine the fear he must have had. Or did he? Muscle-bound goons? Mafia?

  I narrowed my eyes… What was Warren up to? Maybe the finger pointing was correct. After a half-hour, the goons got out and, of course, Baskerville picked that moment to bark. I hadn’t been paying enough attention to him obviously and he objected. Watching the goons, one heard something and turned back to look. I’d slunk down by the steering wheel holding on to the dog, petting him, trying to keep him quiet.

  When I ventured another look, the goons had left, as had the limo. I breathed a very shaky, relieved breath and left for home too.

  Cindy was there when Baskerville and I came in the front door.

  “Where’s that hound we call Baskerville?” she called out. His toy poodle body squirmed out of my arms and rushed madly down the hallway to where she stood in the kitchen. His tail wagged constantly as she picked him up.

  “Late night?” she asked with one eyebrow arched.

  I hung up my Sherlock coat and cap, and joined her for a glass of wine. It had been a day and a half, and I needed a bracer… When I filled her in on my day’s activities, her other eyebrow joined the first.

  “Wow! What do you suppose they were talking about?”

  I shook my head. “…Don’t know for sure, but one of them should be heading for the hills by now.”

  She glanced around the kitchen. “Is it okay to talk here?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I checked it out before I left for my stakeout.”

  She looked at me for a minute. “Tell me what you think.”

  “…No proof as yet, but the Van Gogh is definitely a forgery. Bobby’s a painter and has studied the Impressionists. He was positive it was a forgery. Now too many people have knowledge of the crime. I expect this will all wrap very soon and maybe that’s what they were discussing.”

  “Do you think they’re in on it together?”

  “I think that Sue and Warren are together somehow, but what precisely their relationship is, I’m not sure.”

  “Do you think he’s pulling the strings here?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure, no.”

  “I know how we can find out – maybe,” she said slyly.

  “… How?”

  “Warren invited me over to his fancy mansion for a chic party for some of the well-heeled in town.”

  “He invited you to his house?”

  “Yes.”

  “…Hmm…”

  “That’s what I thought. Maybe I can smuggle you in somehow.”

  “Exactly. I need to checkout his office or den. See what I can see.”

  * * *

  Later I made a phone call.

  “Lucy… I’m not sure that’s such a hot idea.”

  “Mr. Warner, listen. I feel things are coming to a head and there’s still so much I don’t know.”

  He blew out a breath. I could hear his exasperation on the phone line. Maybe I shouldn’t have returned his call.

  “Lucy, when I gave you that hat, somehow I didn’t think you’d be getting yourself into dangerous situations. Perhaps I’ve been naïve.”

  “I guess you don’t remember how that blackmail case ended.”

  “Yeah, I’d forgotten the blackmailer was shot.”

  “… Not all puzzles are cute little songbird stories. Some of them have bad guys who hurt people. That’s what I’ve got here.”

  “So you’re determined to see this through?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Silence for a moment on the line…

  “Okay,” he said wearily. “Can I help?”

  I smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’m doing some reconnaissance tonight and I may need some backup.”

  “…Skip the jargon, Lucy. I don’t have a clue what you want.”

  “Keep your phone on and with you. I may call and I may not.”

  “…Sounds fairly nebulous, but okay, if that’s what you need.”

  “It is. Thank you, Mr. Warner. I’ll explain everything once it’s done.”

  “Be careful, Lucy…”

  * * *

  CHAPTER 21

  Cindy dressed to the nines for this swanky party at Sandstrom’s elegant mansion on the south side of town. She wore a beautiful, emerald green cocktail dress with a full skirt and thin shoulder straps. With a little bling here and there, the dress sparkled and shone, and of course, she looked incredible in it. As she preened in front of the hallway mirror, I shook my head.

  “What? Don’t you like it?”

  “Now I could put that dress on and it wouldn’t look half as good as it does on you.”

  She fixed a strap and patted the blonde hair piled on her head. Dangling earrings danced by her ears. She moved a few strands of hair around her pretty face, looking this way and that in the mirr
or.

  “You’re so negative about your looks, Lucy. You’re cute.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m cute, but you’re stunning.”

  She turned to look at me. “Knock it off. However I look tonight, the focus is on information. I can get more if I look good as opposed to waddling in with sweat clothes on. Right?” She looked harder at me. “…Right?”

  “Okay, okay, you’re right.”

  “You’re dressed for your job and I’m dressed for mine.”

  That had me glancing in the hallway mirror with her. I had on my black exercise pants, black tee shirt and black hoodie. Hair back in a tight ponytail…I shrugged.

  “How do you want to play this?”

  “Okay,” she said, turning back to the mirror. “Let’s drive together and you wait for my call. I’ll go to the bathroom at some point, try to find the office and then text you. Turn the sound off from your phone and just watch for my text. I’ll do the same, although once I get you in and rejoin the party, I’ll have my phone on vibrate.”

  “How do you propose to get me in?”

  “Don’t know yet, Sherlock. That’s to figure out when I see how his house is laid out.”

  “…We play it by ear. But Cindy…”

  “Yes?”

  My eyes met hers in the mirror. “If anything stinks, don’t chance it. I don’t want this to go badly for either of us.”

  She nodded. “…Gotcha.”

  We said goodbye to Baskerville, who wasn’t too thrilled that we were both going out again. He barked a few times, but settled in his bed when I gave him a few bites of pastrami.

  Driving across town, Cindy smoothed her lipstick in the overhead mirror.

  “At least we didn’t need gas this time.” She looked over at me with a slight smirk on her pink lips.

  “Very funny…I don’t plan on dragging any more gas hoses with me, thank you…”

  “Well, that was kind of funny.”

  “And I know what you’re trying to do here, Cindy.”

  “What?” She gave me that innocent look that really wasn’t so innocent.

  “… Trying to relax me for what’s coming up.”

  “Is it working?”

  I moved my hand from side to side. “…A little.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “I have to be… The exhibition only has a few days left and then it’ll be gone. I’m surprised Mr. Big hasn’t pulled it by now.”