GALLERY CAT CAPER, THE

by Patricia Fry

  The woman smiled and nodded in greeting, the auburn highlights in her hair shining in the soft twinkle lights that were casually strung around the patio dining area.

  Savannah and Michael acknowledged her, as well.

  "Have you eaten, Dawna?" Peter asked. When she shook her head, he reached toward a nearby table and pulled another chair over, inviting her to join them, saying, "Here, sit with us. We're just about to order."

  "Thanks," she said, easing her shapely body into the chair across from Savannah. "I hate eating alone." She grinned at Savannah and Michael. "That's why I come in here. I always see someone I know."

  "So you work for this starving artist?" Michael asked, playfully.

  Dawna nodded.

  "She manages the gallery, schedules my shows, does the shipping, PR…you name it," Peter said. "Without Dawna, my life would be…well, more of a mess than it is." He leaned in as if telling a secret. "At least my professional life is in good order," he said, winking.

  Michael grinned. "You must be some woman to keep this guy in line."

  Dawna glanced at Michael and then Peter, saying, "He's not an easy man to organize."

  Savannah eyed the woman as she bantered with the men. When there was an opening, she asked, "Dawna, how did you become involved in this field—I mean as manager of a gallery? Is it the art that attracted you or the business aspect?"

  The woman narrowed her dark-blue eyes as if in contemplation and answered, "Both, actually. I was an art major…many years ago. But when I realized there were only a chosen few who would make it in this field, I decided I'd better use my brain instead of my heart and I went back to school to learn the business side of the art world."

  Savannah smiled. "How resourceful of you."

  "Yeah, flexible," Michael said.

  "So do you miss your art?" Savannah asked.

  Dawna looked around the room and then glanced briefly at Savannah. She smiled weakly and said, "No, I don't have time for that. I'm so embedded in Peter's that there's no time to pursue my own." She cocked her head, her long hair flowing across her low-cut neckline. "Keeping Peter in the limelight is my passion now."

  "You've sure done a nice job of exhibiting Peter's paintings at the gallery," Michael said.

  "Oh, you've visited the gallery?" she asked.

  Michael nodded.

  Before he could comment, Savannah said, "As far as I can tell, it's the best one in the little shopping district."

  "The best one in the state," Dawna said, smiling.

  Peter grinned at Dawna. "Thanks to this dynamo. She keeps my name and my art in front of the public."

  "We saw all of those articles about Peter," Michael said. "So you run the gallery and do the promotion, too?" he asked.

  Dawna nodded.

  "I keep offering to get her some help. Heck, she didn't even want me to hire Kara," Peter explained. He looked at Dawna. "But I think she has taken some of the pressure off, hasn't she?"

  Dawna started to respond when the waitress approached the table, prepared to take their orders. When she left, Savannah addressed Dawna: "I'm curious."

  "About what?" Dawna asked.

  "About why you wouldn't want help with all that you do?"

  Dawna appeared to be uncomfortable. She squirmed in her seat, rearranged her silverware, took in a deep breath, and finally said, "I just don't need it, that's all. I've got it covered." She looked at Peter. "I know what he needs sometimes better than he does and I know how to make things happen."

  Savannah smiled. "Sounds like he's lucky to have you."

  Michael leaned forward, his elbows on the table in front of him. "So Peter, you started to tell us about what has you…"

  Peter quickly interrupted, saying, "What has me so nervous? It's the show Saturday night." He began speaking more loudly and quickly. "It's a charity thing. I just hope we can make a good showing for their project. As I understand it, the proceeds go toward art programs in local schools. Dawna set it up, didn't you?" he asked, acknowledging her.

  She nodded. "It'll give Peter exposure among those celebrities who don't already know about him, as well."

  "Right. It'll be a fun evening." He winked at Savannah. "Bring your autograph book." When he noticed the waitress heading in their direction carrying a platter, Peter leaned back in his chair and said, "Here come our appetizers."

  Savannah looked intently at Peter. What was that all about?" she wondered. He sure got worked up and excited there all of a sudden. She looked at Michael, who didn't seem to notice, as he was busy buttering a piece of French bread.

  When the two couples had finished eating, Peter asked, "Dawna, are you going to the concert?"

  She shook her head. "No. I have some things I need to do." She gathered up her purse and sweater, saying, "Nice to meet you two. Enjoy your stay at the beach."

  Peter picked up his credit card and put it in his wallet. "Well, let's get out of here, shall we?"

  Once on the street, Michael nudged Peter and said, "Man, you sure know how to pick employees. She's attractive."

  Peter laughed. "Yeah, I do, don't I? I like pretty things around me. What can I say?" He glanced at Savannah. "…and it's a good thing you have a beautiful wife or I might have kicked you out of my beach house by now."

  Savannah grinned and shook her head. "I never thought I'd meet a playboy artist," she said.

  "Playboy artist," Peter said, as if in contemplation. "Hey, that's a good title for my memoirs, don't you think?"

  "You're too much," Michael said, slapping Peter on the back.

  Just then Savannah noticed something. That's Dawna, she thought to herself, when she spotted a woman across the street standing in the shadows between two buildings. That looks like the black-and-white dress she was wearing. Savannah slowed her pace and strained to see what she was doing. Looks like she's arguing with someone. She doesn't look happy. In a brief few seconds, Dawna stepped out onto the pavement and walked away at a fast pace. That's when Savannah spotted a man hurrying off in the opposite direction. Hey, that's the guy I saw earlier at the gallery window. I wonder why she was talking to him. Maybe he asked her for a handout. She must have given him something. He looks happy.

  Just then, Savannah heard Michael calling to her. "Hey, you're dawdling."

  She hastened her pace to catch up. "It's so balmy," she commented, as they walked into a park where a half-dozen musicians were setting up in a large gazebo. "Do you ever have to drive anywhere?" she asked. "Everything seems to be within walking distance."

  "We bicycle a lot and, yes, walk. That's how it is in a beach community; casual. Want to sit here?" Peter asked, motioning toward a grassy knoll overlooking the informal stage.

  "Sure," Michael said. "Okay, Savannah?"

  "Fine with me," she agreed. "The grass isn't wet, is it?"

  "No, I don't think so." Peter knelt down and felt it.

  "Hi Peter." Everyone turned and saw Kara walking toward them carrying a large blanket folded over one arm. She smiled at Michael and Savannah, who nodded in greeting.

  "Hi, Kara," Peter said. "Are you with anyone," he asked, looking around.

  "No," she said, shyly. "But I have a blanket to share."

  "Cool. Want to sit here?" Peter asked.

  "Sure," she said, handing him the blanket.

  Once Peter and Kara had spread the blanket, he sat down and invited the others to join him. Kara lowered herself easily next to Peter; Savannah and Michael plopped down in front of them on the shallow slope. While the musicians tuned their instruments, the two couples discussed their music preferences and performances they'd attended. When she had the opportunity, Savannah asked Kara, "Did Peter say you're a college student?"

  "Yes, I attend the art institute."

  "What kind of art are you interested in?" she asked.

  She chuckled. "I'm fickle. I keep changing my mind. I hope I can settle down to one medium and one style eventually. Right now, I just want to create." She glanced at Peter. "I haven't
found my niche, yet. Every time they introduce a subject and a medium at school, that becomes my favorite," she said, laughing.

  "I don't think you're fickle," Michael said. "You're just diverse—and you must be multi-talented."

  She winced a little. "I didn't say I was good at everything I try."

  "But how cool that you're willing to expand your horizons," Savannah said. "I hope our children will try everything that interests them—well, within reason. Then when they choose their path, it's more likely to be a good fit. If they don't try it, they'll never know if they'd like it or not."

  "Good philosophy," Peter said. "Is that how you chose your path?"

  Savannah laughed. "Of course not. I liked animals and science growing up and I became a veterinarian. End of story." She looked at Michael. "…well, then I got sidetracked." She wrapped one arm around Michael's neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Sure glad I took that fork in the road," she said, laughing.

  "And you, Michael," Kara asked, "have you taken any detours?"

  Michael thought for a moment and said, "Professionally, no, but I did try something once that didn't work out. In the end, there were rewards greater than I could ever imagine."

  "Are you talking about your disappointing marriage and later finding out you had a son?" Peter asked.

  Michael nodded.

  "We learned about his son on the eve of our wedding day," Savannah explained. "Can you imagine?"

  "And you married him, anyway?" Peter asked.

  "Oh, yes and I'm so glad I did. Adam is a wonderful, bright child. We love him very much," she said.

  Michael grinned at her and added, "He's coming here tomorrow. We have all sorts of plans."

  "A trip to Disneyland?" Peter asked.

  Michael lowered his brows. "Uh…well…not sure about that…"

  Peter ran one hand over his whisker stubble and said, "Been wanting a day of play. How about I chauffer your family to the Magic Kingdom?"

  Savannah and Michael exchanged looks. Michael's eyes widened. "That might be fun. We could all go."

  "Not me," Kara said. "I'll be working."

  "I'll have a talk with that boss of yours," Michael joked. "Sounds like a real slave-driver."

  Kara studied Peter's face. "Oh, he takes pretty good care of me," she said, smiling.

  Once the orchestra started to play, the two couples rested comfortably on the blanket and enjoyed the music. After several minutes, Savannah noticed Kara texting on her phone. "Charlynn's here," she told Peter, quietly. She looked out over the crowd and then raised one hand and began waving at someone. Savannah saw a hand go up in the midst of a group. Kara smiled and did more texting. "She's going to take my place at the gallery for a few days next week, okay?" she asked Peter.

  He shrugged. "Whatever you two work out is fine with me." He looked at her. "Going somewhere exciting?"

  "Just a couple of days in Catalina with friends."

  "Sounds fun."

  The concert ended at nine-thirty, but the small crowd continued milling around the area for a while longer. That's when Kara called out, "Hi Char."

  Just then, Charlynn walked toward the group. Peter greeted her warmly and introduced her to his guests.

  "Oh, the folks from north of us," Charlynn said. "Nice to meet you. Are you enjoying your stay?"

  Michael nodded and Savannah said, "Very much, so far. Just got here yesterday."

  "How'd you like our little concert?"

  "Seems to be quite an accomplished group of musicians," Michael said.

  "Yes. Most of them have been playing together for years." She turned and pointed. "The base player's my uncle. He retired from some big orchestra in New York a few years ago and now plays here for fun."

  "Cool," Savannah said.

  Just then, Charlynn stood on her tiptoes and waved to a young man sitting on an idling motorized scooter. "Oh, there's my ride," she said. "Better go." She hugged Kara and then Peter and scurried into the milling crowd.

  "Are you going out somewhere?" Kara asked, as Peter and Michael folded her blanket and handed it to her.

  Peter shook his head. "No, we have to go in early tomorrow, remember? I'm getting ready for that show." He hugged her, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and said, "Now, you go get some rest, will ya?"

  The trio watched Kara walk away, but Savannah was the only one who noticed what happened next. That man, she thought, he's the one I saw at the gallery this morning and earlier with Dawna. Did he just speak to Kara as she walked past him? Who is he? What is his connection to these women?

  "Coming?" Michael called, as he noticed Savannah lagging behind again.

  "I could use a cup of coffee or a nightcap; are you two game or do you have to get back?" Peter asked when Savannah had caught up.

  Michael and Savannah looked at each other. He said, "Hey, we're on vacation. You're the one who has to get up early."

  Peter shrugged. "Yeah, I had to tell Kara something or she'd be coming home with me again."

  Savannah raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

  Michael slapped Peter on the back. "You dog, you. A college student? How old is she?"

  "Older than she looks," Peter said, winking.

  "Well, she is cute," Michael said, "isn't she, hon?"

  "Sure is. You have good taste in…uh…employees," Savannah said. "I enjoyed meeting Charlynn, too. So she works in the gallery, as well?"

  "Yes. She and Kara are friends from school and they swap jobs sometimes. Kara can do the framing and Charlynn can pinch-hit as a hostess at the gallery. Interchangeable," he said, smiling. He stopped in front of a coffee house. "Let's get some java. I want to talk to you some more."

  Once they had picked up their orders—three coffees and three bowls of gelato—and found a table, Michael said, "There's something I'm curious about."

  "What's that?" Peter asked.

  "You say Dawna is your right hand in your business, yet you seemed reluctant to discuss with her the stuff that's been going on. What's up with that?"

  Peter leaned toward Michael and lowered his voice. "Hey, I trust that woman with my life, but my PI says I can't make myself vulnerable that way right now—especially with people close to me." He sighed. "I'm going crazy here. I feel like a heel not coming clean with Dawna and the others. Hell, they could be in danger, so it doesn't seem right to keep them in the dark. But that's one reason I got in touch with you, Michael." He thinned his lips, looked Michael in the eyes, and said, "I need a friend." He looked sullen. "I just don't know who my friends are, anymore."

  "But you said there's art missing. Dawna must know about that," Savannah reasoned.

  "Sure, she knows about that and the booking snafus. But I haven't told her about all the incidents of harassment and vandalism or that I suspect it could be sabotage. According to Blake, I have to consider everyone around me a suspect until we figure out what's going on." He sipped his coffee. "You see, it's all hitting so close to home; it could be someone in my tight circle of employees or friends. Blake even wants me to keep Mama Maria in the dark."

  "So that's why you started with the double-talk at dinner, huh?" Savannah said.

  Peter nodded.

  "You've hired a private eye?" Michael asked.

  "Yes," Peter said. "Elizabeth Blake Eastman. Maybe you've heard of her. She took over her dad's agency. She also writes murder mysteries."

  Michael smirked. "And where is she, beauty-wise, on a scale of one to ten?"

  Peter smiled, sheepishly. He edged his cell out of his pocket, pulled up a website, and handed the phone to Michael. "See for yourself."

  "Wow!" Michael held the phone toward Savannah.

  "Ooh, exotic-looking. Is she East Indian?" she asked.

  "I think her mother's from Sri Lanka," he said.

  Michael handed the phone back to Peter, shaking his head.

  "Charlynn's cute, too. She looks a lot like a friend of mine," Savannah said. "I think Bonnie is half or three-quarters black. Charlynn is taller than my
friend, though. Bonnie's real petite."

  "But none of your…ladies know about the behind-the-scenes stuff?" Michael asked.

  Peter shook his head. "Not really. Mama Maria has had a few scares—she found a threatening note. There were a few incidents of graffiti. No. Blake wants me to keep it to myself for now. As I said, Dawna is closest to the operation of the gallery and my corporation, Peter Whitcomb Art. She knows we've had some problems, but she isn't privy to everything that goes on. She doesn't know I hired a PI, for example."

  Michael grinned at his friend. "You and your Peter's Angels." He then asked, "About the cameras—you want them hidden, then, right?"

  "Yes. I want to keep an eye on what's going on inside my studio and the gallery."

  "How many people have access to your studio?" Savannah asked. "Seems like that's pretty private, isn't it?"

  Peter sighed. "Well, we have meetings at my place sometimes and we had a celebration there a few weeks ago. It was after that shindig that I found one of my paintings all slashed up and stashed behind some framed prints. All of my employees were there, but so were a lot of other people. It could have happened that night, although I didn't find the vandalism until several days later."

  Michael locked eyes with his friend. "Peter, just what do you hope to achieve or learn from these cameras?"

  "Who's playing dirty with me. Who's trying to ruin my business. Who wants to hurt me."

  Michael ran his hand through his straight brown hair and said, "Well, the way you have the gallery designed, I don't think cameras will be very effective. In order to see every corner and hidey-hole, you'd need so many cameras, it would be rather ridiculous. Now, if you were to open the area up, you'd be able to use one or two cameras in the main gallery, maybe one in the backroom…do you want one in your office?" he asked.

  "Yes, definitely in the office. In fact, it's more important to have cameras in the office than out in the gallery," Peter explained.

  Michael nodded. "Yeah, I could put one or two up in your gallery office and that backroom, as well as in your studio at home. Would that give you the coverage you need?"

  Peter thought for a moment and said, "Yes, and how about just one in the main gallery, say, aimed toward the front door?"