Read Online The Mystery of the Third Lucretia by Susan Runholt - Free Book Online Page B

guidebook, her eyes were actually looking toward the painter’s canvas. Whenever she glanced over in that direction, she’d look back and make another note in the guidebook. When the artist turned around—probably because he felt someone looking at him—the young woman was slightly turned away from him, studying her book again.
    After one last glance over the painter’s shoulder, the young woman in green left the Rembrandt room and walked into the gallery where the other young woman was waiting.
    Five minutes later the young woman in the black skirt and white shirt walked into the Rembrandt room. She, too, kept her back toward the guard standing at the central entrance. Eventually, after she’d spent a lot of time standing behind the guy painting at the easel, and looking at the pictures that hung near the one called Belshazzar’s Feast, she sat down on the bench in the room and pulled some postcards from a bag she’d gotten at the gift shop. Keeping her head down, she appeared to be writing on the postcards. Then she put the postcards back in the gift shop bag, wandered over behind the painter again, then went out of the room the way she’d come in.
    Later, two girls who looked and acted about twelve or thirteen came into the gallery together. Both girls had their hair pulled back in buns like ballet dancers have. One of the girls had a silver retainer on her teeth. The other one wore glasses.
    The girl with the reddish blond hair was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. The other girl was wearing a green sweater with black pants. As they stood looking at the painting around the corner from the one called Belshazzar’s Feast, the first girl was whispering to the second girl in French about a boy she liked at school. While the strawberry blonde whispered, the brunette was glancing over the shoulder of the man who was painting at an easel. As the man turned to look at them, the two started giggling at what the first girl said, and ran into the next gallery.
    A half hour before the museum closed, a group of German tourists was taking a guided tour through the National Gallery. When they got as far as the Rembrandt room, the guide, speaking in German, stopped in front of one of two Rembrandt self-portraits. Toward the back of the group, wearing a sweater, tight jeans, and a jeans jacket, was a brunette with dark hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, a lot of heavy eye makeup, and dark lipstick.
    Of all the people in the German group, this young woman was the one standing closest to the man at the easel. When the guide walked to the next room and the tourists began to follow, the young woman seemed to be jostled by someone in front of her. She took a quick step backward, slightly brushing the back of the painter. But as he turned to say something nasty to her, she moved to his other side, where she leaned toward him briefly to say, “Sorry,” with a little accent. Then, before he could catch a glimpse of her face, she’d turned and was gone with the rest of the group.
    In all that time, Bert never realized that these were all the same two girls.

15
    Oscars and a Fingertip
    â€œWe are sooooooo GOOD!” Lucas shouted as we got back to the women’s room.
    â€œAnd for the best performance by an actress . . . may I have the envelope, please,” I said into the mirror. I was still wearing my German tourist outfit.
    Lucas handed me her Room-to-Room Guide, then when I frowned she found my bag of postcards and gave it to me with a flourish.
    â€œAnd the Oscar goes to . . .” I pulled a postcard from the bag with a huge gesture. “Oh my goodness, there’s been a tie! The winners are Lucas Stickney and Kari Sundgren!”
    We did the Hollywood thing of “dahling” and kisses on both cheeks.
    Lucas picked up a shoe, walked closer to the mirror, and bent her head, as if she was about to talk into a microphone. “We’d like to thank the