Sherlock and Me (The Case of the Starry Night)

  I shrugged, wiped moisture off my glass. “…I couldn’t get much out of him really, but I got the impression he wanted to disappear because of Sue.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s curious is all. I never asked him about Sue or the museum. He volunteered that information when nobody asked him.”

  One nod from her head, but Cindy’s eyes leveled with mine.

  “What are you doing tonight, Watson?”

  Cindy snorted and slapped her leg. “…What’d you have in mind, Holmes?”

  I reached into my purse and drew out a few bills. Tossing them on the table, I stood up and looked at her with, I hope, an arched eyebrow.

  “… Watson, the game’s afoot.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER 6

  Sue had invited me to come to the art museum tonight. The art historian she’d mentioned was giving a lecture on Van Gogh and his painting that was in the exhibition: Starry Night. Cindy and I had arrived early enough to sit in the auditorium and watch the various players as they came in. I changed out of my traditional jeans and tee shirt to a dress, which seemed more like the costume needed for this performance – that of interested appreciator of art. But I’m uncomfortable in a dress. Cindy says I need therapy but it doesn’t take a psychiatrist to figure out it goes back to my mother. She looked so beautiful in dresses and I’ll never look as good as she did. Any dress I wear makes me nostalgic and gives me pause.

  It was chilly enough now so I could have worn my new Benedict Cumberbatch coat and Holmes cap, but I refrained, much to Cindy’s disapproval.

  I hadn’t told Sue whether or not I was taking the case… er… puzzle yet and felt my detective gear was, as yet, inappropriate. Of course, Cindy disagreed.

  The museum was really a nice one. It’s located on one of the quieter side streets that lead to the downtown area. Outside there’s a great Rodin looking statue of a kneeling man made of rocks and wire that would greet people as they entered. The black exterior was built to resemble the ancient black rocks of the Black Rock Desert, north of Reno and home to the infamous Burning Man Event. An enormous structure in the front resembled some kind of spidery type creature or maybe it’s a couple of butterflies. Anyway, it had a neat water feature in the center that threw water in every direction to be caught by a trough below. And recycled, I’m sure, in the drought-stricken West.

  The inside of the museum was lovely and airy. Enormously high ceiling, built on different levels. The gift shop was to the left as I walked in, with colorful textured stars in the window, purses, books and jewelry advertising the wares within. I saw a small café on the right with windows all the way down the length of that side. The effect was open and spacious. A grand staircase in between ascended up, up, up to see the art on the next few floors. There’s a mesh copper structure hanging from the ceiling that threatened to drop on those walking below. We’d asked for directions to the auditorium and had wound our way behind the staircase to enter a small space with seats and a huge projection screen. It resembled a movie theater…

  Cindy and I had been sitting and chatting for a few minutes as interested people filtered in. I checked them out but it wasn’t until nearly time for the lecture that the really interesting people filed in. Walking down the steps toward the mini-stage in front, three men wearing very expensive suits started to weave their way down my row. Since they had to climb past me to reach their seats, I got a good look. One man had a full head of silver hair wearing an immaculate double-breasted gray suit. It could easily have been silk and had to have been custom-made by a tailor in New York or London.

  I made him out to be Warren Sandstrom III or Mr. Sir to all of us. I also noticed the interested glance he gave Cindy as he filed by. That could be useful…

  The other men I assumed to be board members. They were friendly enough and said quick hellos going by. A fourth man had made his way down the stairs with Sue O’Dell. The art historian, I presumed. A quick look at the flyer we’d been handed coming in said his name was Eric Schultz, a professor at the University of Wisconsin, former curator of several museums and an author of many books. He wore an off-the-rack suit of some checkered design that didn’t quite meet the quality of the other men’s suits. An academic…at least he didn’t have elbow patches on his sleeves.

  Dr. Schultz’s talk was very good. The lights in the auditorium dimmed and he began his presentation about Van Gogh on time. In one of my various student incarnations, I studied Art History and had taken a seminar on Vincent Van Gogh. If his life hadn’t been interesting enough, his art was overpowering. I had to be impressed. Van Gogh was a man who had never been appreciated or even loved in his whole entire life. Yet, he created a mountain of work in his short artistic career. Dr. Schultz remarked that Van Gogh only painted for ten years but produced some 1,700 works that had survived – nine hundred drawings and eight hundred paintings.

  A difficult, frightening man, Schultz continued, Van Gogh had tried many professions before his dedicated brother, Theo, had encouraged him to take up painting. Discussing Van Gogh’s family difficulties yet extreme closeness to his brother, I felt a kinship to the artist. It seemed like we had the same sort of difficulties in our family relationships, but solid friendship with at least one member of the human race.

  As Dr. Schultz showed and discussed interesting slides of Van Gogh’s work – Sunflowers, The Sower, Potato Eaters and several self-portraits – I began to feel uncomfortable.

  He spent many minutes discussing the significance of Starry Night, the painting being shown in the present exhibit. Apparently, Van Gogh had painted this picture of the French village of St. Remy from gazing out his window in the asylum. As the world knows, the artist had had a nervous breakdown that resulted in his voluntary commitment at that time.

  It bothered me that the art decorating an umbrella had burst forth from a man who literally poured his heart and soul into each individual painting. I could see Vincent swirling in the air with his strokes of wind, and now his art was being exploited.

  I was uncomfortable with the man sitting two seats down from me… one of the board members, I assumed. A tall man in a woolen black suit who couldn’t seem to sit still. He crossed and uncrossed his legs. His attention was anywhere but on the slide presentation in front of us. He took off his glasses, cleaned them, put them back on. I was happy when he finally fell asleep – at least he wasn’t moving anymore. Was he just bored or did something bother him?

  And the back of my neck was tingling. That happens when all’s not quite right… And it had to do with the Van Gogh painting, of that I was quite sure. If the umbrella hadn’t pointed the way, something else would have. Whatever this puzzle was, it had become personal to me and was worth troubling about, as Holmes would say. It was inexplicable. That was the best I could come up with for now.

  But I knew it would be good enough…

  After the slide presentation and a Q and A with the audience, Sue got up to thank Dr. Schultz. When she finished, Warren Sandstrom rose to give further kudos to our art historian. But his words of praise seemed less than genuine – Sandstrom was merely going through the motions and saying the words he was supposed to say. I glanced over at Schultz to see how he was taking it and was surprised to see he was glancing back at me. His expression was questioning. My thoughts exactly…

  At the reception following the lecture, Sue came over to Cindy and me. We were grimacing over the awful wine they’d provided for the occasion. Jeez, a guy this rich couldn’t afford a few bottles of the good stuff? I threw my plastic wineglass in the trash and glanced up to greet Sue. I could read her face as easily as the morning paper.

  “Lucy…”

  “Sue…This is my good friend, Cindy Floyd. Thanks for the invite tonight.”

  She nodded at Cindy and came right back to me.

  “Well? Have you made a decision?”

  “I have.”

  “…And?”

  ??
?You want to talk here?”

  “Yes or no, Lucy?”

  “Yes, with a few amendments.”

  “…Such as?”

  “I’ll explain them as I go, but for right now, please introduce us to Dr. Schultz and Sir Sandstrom.” My tongue was only partially in my cheek.

  Her shoulders relaxed and a small breath escaped. Relief marked her serious eyes.

  “Will do.”

  * * *

  I hadn’t really taken a good look at Eric Schultz until Sue took Cindy and me over to meet him. We had to cross over to the café area where Schultz was standing with a few other people. I’d mostly stared at the slides he showed in his presentation and he’d become a disembodied voice to me.

  But when he turned to us, I blinked and saw a wholesome Leonardo DiCaprio. Wow. I didn’t think professors looked this good… Dark blonde hair, blue eyes with that slightly scruffy facial hair that makes good boys look bad. In a heartbeat, I pictured him with a black leather jacket, white tee shirt, worn jeans and cigarette hanging from his mouth. When he smiled at me, I snapped to and shook the hand he offered.

  “Dr. Schultz. Enlightening presentation.”

  “Lucy James? Nice to meet you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  He was introduced to Cindy and came back to me.

  “Dr. Schultz?”

  “Eric, please.”

  I could feel Cindy’s eyes drilling me.

  “If I had a few more questions about the Van Gogh painting, could I talk with you again sometime?”

  He was already nodding and reaching into his pocket. Bringing out a business card, he handed it over and smiled.

  “…Please feel free. Here’s my cell phone number and I’ll be around for the time the exhibit is here. I would welcome questions and comments from you.”

  He acted like he meant it. I liked this guy already.

  Sue touched my arm. “Lucy, I want to introduce you to Mr. Sandstrom.”

  I glanced at her. ”Sure.” My gaze returned to Eric who smiled pleasantly at me.

  “Pleasure, Miss James.”

  Cindy grabbed my arm this time and towed me after Sue. I didn’t want to leave Eric/Leonardo. Cindy whispered in my ear.

  “Could you at least try to play hard-to-get?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “You did everything but lick his face.”

  I stopped full stop and gaped at her. “I did?”

  “Yes, Lucy. For a budding detective, your face can sure give you away sometimes. You need to work on that. Think Humphrey Bogart.”

  “…Shit.” I rubbed my forehead hard. “You’re right.”

  Sue had walked faster and approached Sandstrom standing close to the grand staircase. She was already briefing him on who we were. Our cover was to be local art critics and friends of Sue’s. When we reached him, he smiled easily and offered his hand. Interesting that the smile didn’t extend to his eyes.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 7

  “Miss James, Miss Floyd. Very nice to make your acquaintances… I hope you enjoyed the lecture tonight. Dr. Schultz is a top expert in the field of 18th to 19th century European art. His emphasis is Impressionism in the post-modern age.”

  I wondered briefly if he was going to pause for breath.

  “Mr. Sandstrom.” I shook his hand. “Dr. Schultz’s work is impressive, indeed. Thank you for bringing him with the exhibition.”

  And then he turned his full gaze to Cindy. I took a good look at him while he was shaking her hand, with both of his, and his voice had taken on a more velvety quality. Tall with silver hair, his dark eyes registered interest. His expensive suit gave him a quality of substance. Snowy white shirt and crisp gray tie with a gold clasp. He looked like a man who knew what he wanted and usually got it. Right now he had honed in on my friend, Cindy. She knew how to take care of herself and deflected his subtle advances easily, but he did give her his card. Before we moved on, he’d asked if he could take her to dinner sometime soon. She wasn’t cornered then either and told him she’d call. The guy moved fast, but Cindy was faster…

  After speaking with a few more people, I headed to the restroom, while Cindy spoke with a board member. I had to go a ways down a long hallway before I finally found it. After doing various necessities, I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. My hair looked pretty nice, for a change, and managed to still have a slight curl. Cindy had insisted that I wear lipstick and I hadn’t bitten it all off yet. Coming out of the restroom, I’d barely closed the door when I heard voices coming from a darkened part of the hallway. Farther down past the restroom, I knew there were offices.

  “…are missing, I tell you.”

  “Are you sure? You didn’t misplace…”

  “No, I…”

  “…slides…Gogh…”

  I’d only heard bits and pieces, but it was enough to figure out what was going on. It was Eric and Sue – Apparently some of his slides were missing. Interesting…

  I made a slight movement to leave unobserved, when approaching footsteps told me I was too late. I turned and they were there.

  “Lucy…”

  “Sue. Dr. Schultz.”

  She seemed less than pleased to see me. Schultz’s eyes darted nervously.

  “Hello again.”

  Sue looked at Eric and back to me. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Lucy, I’ll speak with you again soon. Eric? Lunch tomorrow?” He nodded and off she went.

  Schultz and I walked down the hallway together.

  “Tell me, Dr. Schultz…”

  “Eric, please.”

  “…Eric. Why the fascination with the Van Gogh painting? You’re an expert on a couple of centuries’ worth of modern art, which encompasses many artists. But I felt you had a connection with this work.”

  He glanced at my face and away quickly, avoiding my eyes.

  “Oh… You caught that, did you? I’ve tried to keep that reverential tone out of my talks, but it creeps in sometimes with that painting.”

  “I’ve noticed something almost spiritual about it myself,” I added, trying to keep him going. “Many analyses discuss the Biblical elements in Van Gogh’s work.”

  His eyes widened, surprised. “…Why Miss James, I believe you’ve studied art history.”

  “One of my many majors in college.” But I didn’t want to talk about me.

  “What’s so special about it to you?”

  He turned and gestured up the staircase. “Let’s go see, shall we?” His nice eyes lit up. “I can take you upstairs for a private viewing, if you’d like.”

  Hmm… Fairly reminiscent of would you care to see my etchings?

  “…Lead the way.” I almost added Leonardo…

  Climbing up the staircase, I looked over the railing at the scene below. Sandstrom had caught up with Cindy again and they were engrossed in some kind of private conversation. I caught her eye briefly and she winked. Wonder what that’s about…

  Sue O’Dell hadn’t left, as she said she was going to and was watching Eric and me ascend the stairs. Lines on her forehead indicated either deep thinking or maybe she needed Botox. It was a homogenous group of business suits and expensive dresses, everyone clutching glasses and talking, looking amused. It wasn’t really my scene, but I could blend in when I needed to.

  And no matter how cute he was, I hadn’t decided if Dr. Schultz was friend or foe yet.

  We walked up to the second floor, passed two security guards and onto the exhibition. As we stepped closer, Eric unlocked cool glass doors that opened to reveal an expertly displayed collection. The walls were alternating black with white. The cement floor didn’t always meet up with the slanted walls – strange effect -- and the ceiling looked corrugated with recessed lighting. I suppose you could call it artistic. A wall as we walked in displayed various pictures of the artists whose work was being exhibited. Accompanying biographical information was printed on that wall next to the pictures.

&n
bsp; The recessed lighting was dimmed as this was after hours and patrons weren’t allowed in this area now. A creepy feeling crept over me like a daddy longlegs walking down my arm. I shivered…

  The Van Gogh painting of Starry Night was prominently displayed in the center of all the paintings – it hung on a large panel of wood brightly decorated on shiny brown enamel. Certainly a different way to showcase the prize piece... Even I knew that and I’d never been a museum curator.

  Eric said nothing for a few minutes, letting me get my balance upon first seeing the painting. I strode up quickly to the canvas to see all the colors wash into one another. Something I really liked about Impressionist art – it might look like a big mess up close, but from a distance the work danced with recognizable movement. Walking backward to see the painting from a distance, I smiled as the wind took shape, the Cypress tree began to sway and the tiny town sparkled in the background. I could feel Eric’s approval near me.

  “…Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It is indeed. One of his best.”

  “You know…”

  Eric began to talk more about the painting, but I tuned out. What was that smell? It couldn’t be, just couldn’t be…But it sure smelled like pastrami. Why would it smell like pastrami in here?

  I tried not to act like I was sniffing, but my nostrils probably flared and Eric gave me a curious look. He stared back at the painting for another minute, his brows knit and he took a closer look. I assumed he had looked the painting over, in all its minutia zillions of times, but he acted like he’d never seen it before.

  “…Um…” was all he said and he excused himself to hurry back downstairs.

  “Goodbye, Dr. Schultz,” I yelled at him as he raced down the steps. I guessed my private viewing had come to an end as a guard came to escort me out.

  When I rejoined Cindy downstairs, Warren Sandstrom was nowhere in sight. I poked her in the arm.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I hear that. Where’d you go?” We started walking out of the museum.

  “Schultz showed me Starry Night.”

  “…Oh, really… “ Her eyebrows lifted up into her hairline practically.