me and my work.”
“It sucks to be popular, huh?” Sean grinned.
“You could say that.” Ian shook his head. “I never set out to be controversial.” Then he smirked. “Wait a minute. Yes, I did.”
“I’m going to post a guard at the front door between now and the opening. With the gallery staff occasionally going into the back room, the front room in unattended and we run the risk of another incident like this.”
“It all seems a bit ridiculous, but I understand.” Ian sighed. “Skivvies spray painted on nude models. Give me a break.”
“Speaking of that, I want to show you something,” Sean said. “I mentioned it to the police, but they didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. They thought it was a coincidence.” Sean knew it wasn’t a coincidence. It was absurd to think the vandal had randomly chosen the same person to paint in each photo.
“What is it?” Ian asked. The photographer wore jeans and a sweatshirt, looking as if he’d rather be in his hotel room watching TV. But he obediently followed Sean.
“The person who was covered in each photo is the same woman. You can see that her hair is darker in a few, and in one she’s wearing glasses, but it’s definitely the same woman.”
Ian studied the photos one at a time, moving down the gallery wall. “Jesus, you’re right. What the hell?”
“I don’t know if this woman is the one who left the note or if someone who just knows her did, but either way, there is clearly a message being sent whether we understand it or not.”
“Curious, isn’t it?” Ian glanced over at the police. “Somehow I don’t imagine they’re going to jump all over this, are they?”
“No. Not a chance.”
“Does your firm do any investigating along with security?”
“That’s not really our area, but I can recommend someone.” Sean had never wanted to get into investigative work because anyone he knew who offered that service spent a great deal of time working with angry married couples who were either getting divorced or were suspicious that cheating was occurring. It wasn’t anything he particularly wanted to deal with on a regular basis.
He had spent ten years ignoring his own failed marriage; he didn’t want to muck around in other peoples’.
“All right then. Guess I should go say something to the event coordinator,” Ian commented. “She looks like she’s about to burst into tears any second now.”
Sean spun around to check on Kristine.
He knew immediately Ian was wrong. He knew Kristine. She wasn’t about to cry.
She was trying not to laugh.
In awkward situations, Kristine got the giggles. It was a nervous tic she’d always had. During their brief fifteen-minute wedding ceremony, she had giggled the entire time, leading the justice of the peace to suspect she was drunk and ask repeatedly if she was sure she really wanted to get married.
Now the telltale wide eyes, wrinkling of her nose, and shifting of her lips back and forth indicated she was about to burst out with a completely inappropriate laugh.
“I’ll speak to her,” he told Ian. “I think she just needs some reassurance.”
The truth was, he had no idea what Kristine needed, but he knew all the things he’d like to give her.
* * *
K RISTINE HATED THAT she got the giggles at the worst moments. She was the person who became so emotionally overwhelmed that it spilled out as laughter in situations where it was totally offensive to other people. If a giggle escaped now, June would think she was not taking the vandalism seriously. But she couldn’t help it. It was all so ludicrous.
When June had mentioned the vandal’s graffiti art was akin to a third grader’s, it had seemed so beside the point that Kristine had felt laughter burbling up inside. She was pretty darn sure the intention had not been to display any particular sort of artistic skill.
Sean approached them right as she was sure she was going to lose the good fight and giggle.
“I’m confident
“It sucks to be popular, huh?” Sean grinned.
“You could say that.” Ian shook his head. “I never set out to be controversial.” Then he smirked. “Wait a minute. Yes, I did.”
“I’m going to post a guard at the front door between now and the opening. With the gallery staff occasionally going into the back room, the front room in unattended and we run the risk of another incident like this.”
“It all seems a bit ridiculous, but I understand.” Ian sighed. “Skivvies spray painted on nude models. Give me a break.”
“Speaking of that, I want to show you something,” Sean said. “I mentioned it to the police, but they didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. They thought it was a coincidence.” Sean knew it wasn’t a coincidence. It was absurd to think the vandal had randomly chosen the same person to paint in each photo.
“What is it?” Ian asked. The photographer wore jeans and a sweatshirt, looking as if he’d rather be in his hotel room watching TV. But he obediently followed Sean.
“The person who was covered in each photo is the same woman. You can see that her hair is darker in a few, and in one she’s wearing glasses, but it’s definitely the same woman.”
Ian studied the photos one at a time, moving down the gallery wall. “Jesus, you’re right. What the hell?”
“I don’t know if this woman is the one who left the note or if someone who just knows her did, but either way, there is clearly a message being sent whether we understand it or not.”
“Curious, isn’t it?” Ian glanced over at the police. “Somehow I don’t imagine they’re going to jump all over this, are they?”
“No. Not a chance.”
“Does your firm do any investigating along with security?”
“That’s not really our area, but I can recommend someone.” Sean had never wanted to get into investigative work because anyone he knew who offered that service spent a great deal of time working with angry married couples who were either getting divorced or were suspicious that cheating was occurring. It wasn’t anything he particularly wanted to deal with on a regular basis.
He had spent ten years ignoring his own failed marriage; he didn’t want to muck around in other peoples’.
“All right then. Guess I should go say something to the event coordinator,” Ian commented. “She looks like she’s about to burst into tears any second now.”
Sean spun around to check on Kristine.
He knew immediately Ian was wrong. He knew Kristine. She wasn’t about to cry.
She was trying not to laugh.
In awkward situations, Kristine got the giggles. It was a nervous tic she’d always had. During their brief fifteen-minute wedding ceremony, she had giggled the entire time, leading the justice of the peace to suspect she was drunk and ask repeatedly if she was sure she really wanted to get married.
Now the telltale wide eyes, wrinkling of her nose, and shifting of her lips back and forth indicated she was about to burst out with a completely inappropriate laugh.
“I’ll speak to her,” he told Ian. “I think she just needs some reassurance.”
The truth was, he had no idea what Kristine needed, but he knew all the things he’d like to give her.
* * *
K RISTINE HATED THAT she got the giggles at the worst moments. She was the person who became so emotionally overwhelmed that it spilled out as laughter in situations where it was totally offensive to other people. If a giggle escaped now, June would think she was not taking the vandalism seriously. But she couldn’t help it. It was all so ludicrous.
When June had mentioned the vandal’s graffiti art was akin to a third grader’s, it had seemed so beside the point that Kristine had felt laughter burbling up inside. She was pretty darn sure the intention had not been to display any particular sort of artistic skill.
Sean approached them right as she was sure she was going to lose the good fight and giggle.
“I’m confident
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