GALLERY CAT CAPER, THE

by Patricia Fry

  Savannah smirked. "That would not look good on you."

  "What makes you think so?"

  "Well, I'm pretty sure, but go ahead and try it." After several minutes, Brianna walked out of the dressing room carrying the dress.

  "What do you think?" Savannah asked.

  "I love it!"

  "Really?" Savannah said, disbelieving.

  "It looks smashing."

  "Why didn't you model it for me?" Savannah wanted to know.

  Brianna smirked. "Didn't want your negative input." She put her hand on Savannah's arm. "I'll show it to you this evening. You'll get the reveal then."

  "Okay," Savannah said, apprehensively. She then asked, "Want lunch? My treat."

  Brianna shook her head. "Oh no, I'll treat since you're letting us enjoy your vacation home."

  "Now that's not necessary—I'm so glad you could make it."

  "I feel that we owe you for including us."

  "But…oh my gosh!" Savannah said, grabbing Brianna's arm.

  Brianna gasped. "What?" she asked, fear in her eyes.

  "Come on. I want to check something out. Let's cross here," she said, pulling her sister along as she launched out into the street.

  "Watch out!" Brianna said, glancing at the oncoming cars. "You'll get us killed. At least wait until after this glorious weekend," she whined.

  Once on the other side of the street, Savannah led her sister up a ways and then stopped in front of a homeless man who was sitting on a small plot of grass between two buildings.

  "What are you doing?" Brianna whispered rather loudly. "Do you know him?"

  "Excuse me," Savannah said to the man. "That painting…may I ask where you got it?"

  The man squinted up at Savannah through long stringy strands of blond hair. "It's mine. I found it," he said. He smiled, revealing that he was missing several teeth, and asked, "Wanna buy it? You can have it for twenty bucks."

  "I might buy it. But first, I want to know where you found it."

  "Why? What does it matter?"

  "Because I think you stole it. Did you steal it? I'm not buying any stolen goods," Savannah said.

  Brianna's eyes became saucers. "Vannie, what are you doing. Come on," she said, trying to pull her away.

  Savannah shook her sister's hand loose, telling her, "Just a minute—it's okay." She then addressed the man again. "So, did you steal it?"

  "No, I told ya, I found it."

  "Where?" she insisted. When he hesitated, she said, "Hey, I saw a cop just around the corner. I can have him here in a hot minute."

  He looked around, his eyes wide. "Okay, I dug it out of a Dumpster, and that's no lie. Someone else must have stole it. But it wasn't me."

  "What Dumpster?" Savannah pushed.

  "About two blocks up behind those art places…"

  "Galleries?"

  "Yeah, galleries." He leaned toward Savannah and looked in both directions before speaking. "I saw someone toss it in there and I dug it out, that's all. I thought it was purty and figured I could sell it."

  "What did the person look like?"

  "Hell, lady, I don't know. It was dark, ya know. I didn't get a good look at him. He didn't see me. I pretended to be asleep."

  Savannah hesitated and then asked, "Did you see where he went?"

  "No, didn't notice that. I was pretending to be asleep, remember? He just disappeared—I guess walked on down the street or somethin'."

  "Okay, so you say you want twenty for it?"

  The man perked up. "Yeah. You wanna buy it?"

  "Yes," she said, digging into her purse. She handed him the money, then took the painting. "Thanks," she mumbled as the two women walked away.

  "Why did you do that?" Brianna asked, trying to keep up with her sister as she walked swiftly down the street.

  Savannah, her jaw set in staunch determination, said, "Because this is one of Peter's paintings."

  Chapter 3

  "Where are we going?" Brianna insisted. "Why are you walking so fast? Remember, my legs aren't as long as yours."

  "Oh, sorry. I just want to get this back to Peter. We can slow down. We're almost there, anyway."

  When the two women entered the gallery, they saw Peter dusting a panel of paintings.

  He looked up. "Oh hi, Savannah." He gazed at Brianna.

  "Hi, Peter," she responded. "This is my sister Brianna."

  "Nice to meet you." Peter looked from one to the other of the women. "Sisters, huh?"

  Brianna quipped, "Yeah, same mother, same father, but the genes organized in totally different ways."

  "Well," he said, smiling, "you certainly are two beautiful women, but with strikingly different assets."

  "Spoken like an artist," Brianna said, chuckling. She bowed her head. "Thank you." She then narrowed her eyes. "…I think."

  "Whatcha got there?" he asked. When Savannah turned the painting to face him, he frowned, appearing confused. "Well, where did you get that?" he asked, taking it from her.

  Just then, Dawna walked in from the back room. She greeted Savannah briefly, glanced at Brianna, and then said to Peter, "I need to speak to you." When she saw what he held in his hands, she asked, "Where did that come from…I mean…where did you find it?"

  He nodded toward the two women. "Savannah was just about to tell me."

  "Well, I bought it from a man in an alley for twenty bucks," she said.

  Peter looked stunned. "What? How did he…?" he muttered, shaking his head slowly back and forth.

  "Oh, those homeless are always hanging around here," Dawna said. "Probably snuck in the back door and grabbed it."

  Peter spoke sternly to Dawna. "We can't have the art sitting around back there with the door open. You know that."

  "Yeah, well, those teeny-boppers you have working here probably forgot," Dawna snapped.

  "Maybe that isn't how he got it at all," Peter said. He examined the painting more closely. "He may have ripped it off from someone who bought it here. That's always a possibility."

  "Well, he says he found it in a Dumpster out back," Savannah said. "Says he saw some guy toss it in there."

  "Some guy?" Dawna repeated. "Oh, you can't believe what those homeless say. They all lie."

  Just then a couple walked into the gallery. "Come with me," Peter said, motioning to Savannah and Brianna. The trio walked into the back room. "Thanks for bringing this in," he said. He chuckled. "You got yourself quite a deal there. This painting should bring $800 or more." He then reached into his pocket, pulled out a twenty, and handed it to Savannah.

  She put her hand up in front of her. "Consider it a down payment on the painting I'm going to buy." When he looked puzzled, she said, "Well, I haven't decided which one, but I have my eye on that ocean scene—looks sort of like a spot I love in Big Sur."

  "Oh, I know the one," he said. "I'll set it aside for you, if you're serious."

  "It's my favorite so far. But I haven't seen them all."

  "You sure do beautiful work," Brianna said. "I love all the detail and the way you kind of swirl it all together to create a story."

  "Thank you," he said. "Are you a writer?"

  She smiled. "No. I'm a doctor."

  He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, a doctor? Well, you should write art reviews. That one was unique."

  "So is your art," Brianna said, smiling demurely.

  ****

  "I hear you had some excitement today," Michael said to Brianna as they gathered in the living room before leaving that evening.

  "Yes, your wife is something else. She thinks she's some sort of investigator or private eye," she said. "She practically wrestled some guy to the ground to get that stupid painting back."

  "Wrestled him to the ground?" Bud repeated, his eyes wide.

  "That is a gross exaggeration," Savannah insisted. "I merely retrieved one of Peter's stolen paintings for him. And it cost me twenty bucks, too."

  Knock-knock .

  "That must be our driver," Michael said. "Good-
bye, Gladys. See you later, Son. Don't beat Grandma too bad at checkers."

  Adam smiled at Gladys. "I won't."

  Gladys waved to the group as they left. "You all have a nice time."

  "Love that dress on you, Sis," Savannah said, stepping out through the door. "You were right. You did good."

  "Yes, you look great," Bud said as they approached the limo. He glanced at Savannah and Michael. "I guess we should go out more often. I don't get to see her all dressed up."

  "And what about you?" Michael said. "When's the last time you wore a dress shirt?"

  "Probably the last wedding I attended. I'm glad Peter has a friend my size. I look good in this jacket, don't you think?" he asked, grinning.

  Brianna smiled at him. "Sure do, babe."

  "Good evening, everyone," Peter said from inside the limousine. "Pile in, there's plenty of room." Once everyone was seated, he introduced Blake, a willowy woman with long black hair framing an expertly made-up face.

  "You're a PI?" Michael asked, disbelieving.

  "Michael," Savannah scolded, "pretty women can be capable, too."

  "Uh, oh, I didn't mean to sound like...I mean…"

  "Better stop while you're…um, behind, Michael," Peter said, laughing.

  The group arrived at the location twenty minutes later. After exiting the car, they were ushered directly into the mansion. "Gosh this is some place," Brianna said, looking around wide-eyed.

  "Boy, is it ever," Savannah agreed. "Wouldn't want to clean it."

  Brianna smirked at her sister. "Spoken like a homemaker."

  "Follow the arrows to the gallery," the greeter invited.

  "How cool," Bud said, "…a red carpet with arrows."

  "Oh, Peter," Savannah said, once they'd entered the temporary gallery, "look at all the paintings. They're all yours?"

  "Well, yes," he said.

  "It's just that there are so many."

  He smiled and shrugged. "I'm prolific; what can I tell you?"

  After they toured the expansive gallery, they entered another part of the home, where they found dozens of people dressed in exquisite designer clothes, wearing expensive jewelry, and sipping cocktails while nibbling on fancy hors d'oeuvres.

  "Where's your right and left hand?" Savannah asked when she had the opportunity.

  "Long story," Peter said. Just then they heard a gentle chiming sound. "Know what that means?" Peter asked those standing around him.

  The individuals in the group shook their heads.

  "It means we sold a painting. One chime is $100 for charity. Two is $500."

  "Wow, nice," Savannah said.

  Peter nodded. "Music to my ears."

  Just then, a well-dressed older man, who looked quite comfortable in his jeans and expensive sport coat, walked up. "Hello, Peter, my boy," he said. He nodded to the people standing around the artist.

  Peter grabbed the man's outstretched hand. "Hey, Felix. Good to see you! Meet some of my friends." He introduced Blake, the Iveys, and Bri and Bud.

  After greeting each of them, Felix turned to Peter. "Is everything okay?"

  "Yeah, why?" Peter asked.

  Felix rubbed the back of his neck. "Just wondering why you're showing other artists' work in your gallery."

  "What?" Peter said, obviously too loud. He squinted and asked, "What do you mean, Felix?"

  "Well, Friday, Meela wandered into your gallery with her cousin who's visiting from Spain and none of your work was hanging. It was someone else's work—some of it was close to your style, but Meela knows your work."

  "Of course she does." Peter frowned. He shook his head. "Someone else's work?" he asked. "That's…well, I don't know what to say, except she must be mistaken."

  Felix made eye contact. "I don't think so, Peter."

  "I just don't get it. I was gone all day Friday. Dawna was in charge…"

  Felix nodded. "Yes, Meela said she was there. Dawna was taking care of a customer, so she didn't speak with her. In fact, the place was pretty busy, so Meela just left. She said she saw a couple of tour buses in the neighborhood."

  Peter scratched his head. "We were expecting a crowd that day."

  Chime-Chime

  "Cool," Felix said to Peter. "More for the charity and more for your pockets."

  Peter nodded without much expression. He noticed that Blake was engaged in conversation with a couple at the bar and he took the opportunity to excuse himself.

  As he left, Brianna turned to her sister. "Vannie, I want one of those paintings for my office. I actually saw one I like. Wanna go with me to see if we can find it? Let's make some music, shall we?"

  "Sure. Sounds fun," Savannah agreed.

  The two women were halfway to the gallery when they heard someone shouting. Savannah stopped. "Who's that?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

  "Hell if I know," Brianna said. "Sure sounds mad." She tugged on Savannah's arm. "Let's get out of here."

  Savannah pulled away and eased quietly toward a partially open door. "It's Peter," she whispered, when she saw him in the dim light, pacing and shouting into his cell phone. She frowned and quietly closed the door, urging Brianna along toward the gallery.

  "It's this one," Brianna said, pointing. "Wouldn't that be a peaceful scene to hang in the waiting room?"

  "Oh yes," Savannah agreed. "The colors are marvelously soothing. I love it. Good choice, Sis."

  Brianna looked around. "I wonder who I pay."

  Just then a plump woman in a purple knit dress and a gaudy necklace approached them. "Are you buying it?" she asked.

  Brianna nodded.

  The woman chuckled. "Just follow me." She glanced back at Savannah. "Are you buying, too?"

  "The one I want is in the gallery at the beach," she said. "I think he set it aside for me."

  "Well, dear, when you purchase it, you can request that a percentage of the proceeds go to the charity. Everything sold through Sunday night supports the charity."

  "Oh, good. I'll try to purchase it by then," she promised.

  Once Brianna had paid for the painting, they watched as an elderly gentleman stood up from his chair and struck the chimes, which could be heard throughout the home.

  "Exciting," Brianna said. She turned to the woman. "So how will you keep someone else from buying it? Do I take it now or what?"

  The woman laughed. "No, we'll put a sold sticker on it. See, like this one," she said, pointing.

  "Oh. Okay. I guess I'll come get it before I leave, right?"

  "You can do that or we'll deliver it to you, if it won't fit in your car."

  Brianna looked at the painting again. "I think it'll fit—we're in a limo with the artist," she bragged.

  When the sisters rejoined Michael and Bud, the men were chatting with Peter, Blake, and another couple. Savannah shot a quick look at Peter, who seemed to have recovered nicely from his outburst on the cell phone.

  "I bought a painting," Brianna announced.

  "You did?" Bud asked. "For your office?"

  Brianna nodded.

  "Which one?" Peter asked.

  "Golden Fields," she said. "I love the colors filtering through the trees into that meadow. I'm going to hang it in my waiting room."

  "Oh yes," he said. He reached for Brianna's hand and bowed slightly, saying,

  "Thank you. I hope your patients enjoy it as much as I enjoyed painting it."

  "There was a magician in here a minute ago," Bud said.

  Blake added, "And there's a wandering violinist. She's superb."

  "I hear there are acrobats on one of the patios," Peter said.

  "Where?" Brianna asked. "I love acrobats."

  Peter raised a hand and motioned to one of several young women who were dressed in old-fashioned bellman outfits. When she walked up to the group, Peter asked, "Where are the acrobats performing?"

  She pointed, using her whole arm like a traffic cop. "Out that door, sir, and to the left." She pointed in another direction. "There's a juggling act on t
he south lawn. And in the east gardens, you can enjoy a harpist."

  Brianna clasped her hands together. "Gosh, which one do I want to see first?"

  Bud pointed toward the open French doors. "Well, let's just wander out that way and see what we see, shall we?"

  "Okay," she said. She turned toward the others. "Coming?"

  Savannah glanced at Michael and then Peter and Blake. "I'd like to," she said, taking Michael's arm. They followed Bud and Brianna; the others trailed along behind.

  They enjoyed several of the acts before strolling out to hear the harpist. They'd been seated in chairs around a small rose garden for fifteen minutes or so when Savannah's eyes began to wander. Suddenly, in the distance, she thought she saw someone familiar. Oh, it's Kara, she noticed, and Charlynn's with her. They seem to be looking for someone. Probably Peter. I'll try to get their attention and let them know where we are. Suddenly she scowled. What are they doing? she wondered. She watched as the two women glanced around and then moved quickly behind a row of shrubs. Savannah soon realized she was probably the only one who could see them and it was obvious that the women had not noticed her watching them.

  They're taking something out of a tote bag. It looks like a painting. What's that Kara has in her hand—a spray can? Savannah squinted into the dimness of the night. Well, it looks like they're spraying something all over that painting. I wonder why?

  Suddenly, she saw Charlynn shove the framed item under the shrub. Kara tossed the spray can and the two of them walked out into a more well-lighted area.They're giggling like a couple of teenagers, Savannah noticed. I wonder what that was all about. She glanced at Peter. Should I tell him what I saw? Should I confront the gals? Or should I do as Michael would probably suggest and just stay out of it?

  As if confirming her thoughts, Michael reached over and took Savannah's hand, holding it while the music continued.

  ****

  "Will you sign it?" Brianna asked Peter on the ride home in the limo later that night.

  "Well, Bri, it's signed, see?" Savannah pointed at the lower right-hand corner of the painting.

  "Yes, but I want him to sign it on the back, too."

  "Yeah, I can do that," Peter said, pulling a felt pen out of his jacket pocket.

  "Came prepared, huh?" Michael teased.

  "Yeah, didn't you see him autographing napkins and programs and things for people tonight?" Brianna asked.