Close Up (7 page)

After paying for her travel back to Minnesota, she had spent the last of her money on the first and last month’s rent on her dumpy little apartment, as well as for the lawyer to draw up her divorce papers. She was flat busted broke, and there was no way she could call the cops if she wanted to have food to eat. Cops meant she would lose her job; she had no doubt about it, and cops meant that possibly her mother would be arrested. No matter how much her mother annoyed her, she couldn’t be the one responsible for getting her tossed in jail.

Sean frowned. “Don’t you care that some insane person is running around defacing art? This is a crime, you know. Besides, I’m sure the gallery has security cameras. They’re going to know what happened.”

She winced, reaching out to see if she could scratch the paint off the glass. “There are no security cameras. Not inside, anyway. Just one outside by the front entrance, so all they’ll see is a person entering the gallery, but they won’t see anything happening. And in theory, yes, I am concerned about a criminal defacing art. But I don’t want the exhibit ruined because of this. It’s a charity event. We don’t know the person is dangerous.”

For a second, Sean didn’t answer. Then he gave her a long look. “What is really going on? Do you know who did this?”

“Why would you ask that?” she stalled.

“Because you look like you have a secret. You have never had a poker face. You’d lose your shirt in a card game, not that I would complain about that.”

Kristine bit her lip. “I think my mother did this.”

“What?” He clearly hadn’t expected her to say that. “What the hell does your mother have to do with any of this?”

Her heart rate increased to a fast gallop and her palms started to sweat. She rubbed her thumb more aggressively over the spray paint, unable to look at Sean. “She finds Ian’s photography offensive. She was making noise earlier on the phone with me about putting a stop to the exhibit.”

“Oh, God.”

Exactly.

“So apparently your mother hasn’t changed much in ten years then.”

She dared to glance at him from under her lashes. “See why I don’t want to call the cops? If it was her, I just need to make it right. Right?” During her and Sean’s brief marriage, Sean and her mother had not gotten along at all, and Kristine had a feeling his sympathy was going to be limited, at best.

But even before he could respond, she felt guilty about her moral ambiguity. “Darn it. You’re right. We should call the cops anyway. But my boss is going to kill me. I’m going to get fired if my mother did this.”

Sean shook a piece of paper. “There was a note tucked into one of the photographs. This doesn’t sound like your mother to me.”

That was good. Even at the same time it was bad. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He cleared his throat and read the note to her. “‘Catch me if you can.’ It’s signed anonymous.”

“Not the morality committee?” Maybe it wasn’t her mother after all.

“No.”

Kristine decided to test the theory. “I’m texting Ebbe. If she did it, she’ll admit it.”

Taking a roundabout approach, she asked her mother what she was doing.

Yoga, why?

Have you been uptown this afternoon?

No.

This was puzzling. She looked at Sean. “Okay, so I don’t think she actually did it. Is it really possible that someone else despises Ian’s photography, as well?”

“What does your mother dislike about it?”

“She says it’s an exploitation of women.

“But it’s male and female models and none of them are in sexual poses. I don’t get it.” He sounded puzzled, studying the note again.

“I have spent twenty-nine years trying to ‘get’ my mother and it hasn’t happened yet. I doubt it ever will.” If she sounded slightly frustrated and a whole lot panicked, well, she was. “My mother reinvents herself every two years or so and lucky me, this year she decided everyone should be wearing sweaters in art.”

“I knew your mother was, you know,
passionate,
but babe, this is illegal so I seriously hope she’s not responsible. Do you think she’ll show up Friday?”

She hoped and prayed she would not. “No. Of course not. Probably not. Actually, yes. She as good as said she was going to.”

Sean looked distracted. He had moved from one defaced photo to the next, head swinging back and forth. “Look at this. They’re the same person.” He moved to a third person. “Holy shit. It’s the same person.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s the same person who’s been spray painted with boy shorts.”

That didn’t make any sense. The shoots were all in different cities, at different times. “That’s impossible.”

“Her hair is different, and in one she’s wearing glasses, but the body is the same, the nose, the face, the...” He held his hands up to indicate breasts.

Kristine frowned. He was right. Those were the same breasts and the same flat stomach and the same slim hips. Fabulous. Not only was a potentially crazy person popping up in all of Ian’s photo’s, she was hot. Those breasts were perky perfection.

“You need to tell your boss,” he said. “And you should file a police report.”

“Fine.” Let the breasted babe get busted. Even if Kristine lost her job, it might be worth it. No one should be allowed to deface art. Especially a beautiful woman whom Sean was scrutinizing way too closely. Though she supposed there was no reason to believe the woman and the vandal were one and the same. She sighed. “This is awful. This day is making my head hurt.”

“I wonder what her endgame is?” Sean murmured, reaching out and touching the woman behind the glass. “Why is she taunting Ian?”

Kristine didn’t give a damn. Appalled to realize she was jealous, she dialed the police on her phone and put it to her ear. After a few minutes of explaining the situation, she hung up. “They’re on their way. Fifteen minutes, since it’s not an emergency.”

“I find this a very interesting crime.” Sean was doing something on his phone. “I want to do a little research and see what threats have been made against Bainbridge.”

She understood he would be curious about the vandalism from a security standpoint, but at the moment, her panic lay purely with the fact that in its current state, the photography could not be seen by anyone.

Fighting the urge to slide her hand casually into his pocket and snag the note, Kristine shook her head. “I need to deal with the damage before Friday. Do you think we can use something to get the paint off?” Before she called June.

“Probably. Or you can have new glass cut for the frames. But you should wait for the cops to get here first.” He walked two photos down from where she stood. “By the way, maybe if your mother knows the cops are investigating vandalism, she will stay away from the party Friday.”

Somehow she doubted that would stop Ebbe if she were on a mission. “One can only hope.” She picked at the spray paint with her fingernail. It didn’t rub off. She scratched harder. The entire photograph swayed on its hook and came perilously close to falling off the wall. “Damn.”

“You probably shouldn’t touch that. The police will want to see it how we found it.” Sean reached up and, barely touching the corner of the frame, stopped the swaying.

Seeing it hanging there, defaced, and hearing his logic, made Kristine’s blood pressure increase all over again. “That looks so awful. I’m going to have a heart attack. How do I get new glass cut in a day and a half?” Bile rose in her mouth and her palms still sweat. Waving her hand in front of her face, she bit her lip and assessed the damage. Scraping the paint off would scratch the glass, and she was a little reluctant to use a chemical solvent to remove it, though that was probably her better option. “I guess I need to head to the hardware store after the police leave.”

“I think you should let the owner of the gallery deal with it, Kristine. I’m sure she’s the one who had them framed in the first place. I’m sure she’ll want to oversee redoing the exhibit.”

He was right, of course. But what she couldn’t tell him was that if she did that, it would be like admitting failure. It would just give June a reason to fire her. If she fixed it herself, how could June blame her for a crazed vandal?

Wishing she were wearing different shoes, Kristine steeled her spine and glanced around for her purse. “Can you recommend a hardware store? I’ll go after the police do their thing.”

“You’re really going to tackle this tonight? I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Sean said, tucking his shirt back into his pants.

She preferred the disheveled look he had been sporting for the past ten minutes, the naughty shirttail-out look, as if they’d been lip-locked instead of just locked in the back room, but this was public Sean. She had learned there were two distinct Seans, and while this one was sexy and commanding, she was sometimes wary of him. Like now.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She went into the back room for her purse, grabbing it out of the desk drawer so she could head to the store with the glass measurements. If she had a measuring tape, that was. Damn.

“No measuring tape?” he asked her when she returned, biting her lip.

Her cheeks were burning with irritation, embarrassment and fear. “No.”

“Do you have a blanket or butcher paper in the back? We can cover one photo and take it to the hardware store with us.”

Kristine narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re going to help me?”

“Sure. In exchange for just one little thing.”

She had a feeling whatever he was about to say was not going to make her day any easier. “What?”

“You go out for a drink with me later. For old times’ sake.”

She could do that. In fact, she was very much looking forward to it.

“Deal.”

But then he smiled and she wondered if she had struck a bargain with the devil. Or at the very least, his sexy assistant.

Sean stepped toward her.

The front door burst open and Sean’s assistant stood there, looking a little panicked. “Are you okay?”

That remained to be seen.

5

S
EAN STOOD NEXT
to Kristine as she finished up with the police. He was trying hard not to get frustrated. He was failing. Kristine would look to him for advice, her face pleading, and he would be unable to resist making a suggestion or offering to help. Then she seemed to resent it and pushed him away. In a thirty-minute interaction with the police, he’d felt as if everything wrong with their marriage had just been brought to light in startling clarity.

He wanted to problem solve for her. Take care of her. She accepted his help then got angry about it.

Yet, what was most frustrating of all was watching her interact with the officers sent to investigate the vandalism, and thinking she was beautiful and amazing, and whatever the hell had ruined their marriage hadn’t been worth it. It could have been fixed.

“I’ve never seen art like this,” the one officer repeated for about the fifth time, gawking at a photo. His finger touched the glass, right on a woman’s backside, before he pulled it back quickly, pink staining his full cheeks.

“Does the building have security cameras?” the second officer asked.

“Just at the door. Not on the street.”

Which seemed a huge breach in security to Sean. “It’s a very basic system and it only runs in intermittent sweeps. But there is probably something of value on it.” He turned to Kristine. “How soon did the gallery owner say she would be here?” Reluctantly, Kristine had called her boss. Sean had sent Michigan back to the office to cancel the rest of his workday.

“She should be here any minute now,” Kristine said, looking peevish.

Sean wasn’t sure why she was pissed at him. He hadn’t spray painted boy shorts on nude models. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” he asked her. “In the other room?”

“Sure.” She followed him into the back room. She eyed the storage closet suspiciously, as if she thought he was going to shove her in and lock the door.

He wanted to laugh suddenly. “Kristy, are you okay?”

“Not really. I’m looking at losing my job here.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m just so stressed out, and honestly, Sean, I am overwhelmed by you being here. Can I just meet you at the wine bar later, when all this is sorted out?”

So she wanted him gone. It should offend him, but if anything, it made him more stubborn. He had “gone away” for ten years. She couldn’t send him away now until they had discussed a few crucial things.

“The police will be leaving in twenty minutes. I’m staying.” Then he added, before she could argue. “I have a stake in this, as well.” He wasn’t talking about just the job.

With each minute that ticked by in her presence, his emotion and curiosity grew. He wanted answers. He wanted conclusions. He wanted closure.

And he wanted the privilege of touching Kristine one last time before they filed those papers and went on their merry way with separate lives.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, her voice soft and nervous.

“Like what?” He really wasn’t sure what his face expressed. He had a pretty good poker face, but it was different with Kristine.

“Like you want to kiss me.”

The poker face was busted apparently. “Because I do,” he told her honestly.

“Well, knock it off.” But there was no malice or anger in her voice. It was a weak threat that made him smile.

“Make me.” He stepped toward her.

“Stop.” She looked flustered, head turning left and right as if she was seeking help for her dilemma.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

Sean knew how to play this game. He got very close to Kristine, close enough that he could hear the sharp intake of her breath. “Maybe you should close your eyes,” he murmured, reaching out and brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek.

Her mouth had fallen open in anticipation, and she gazed at him with limpid, sensual eyes that did crazy things to his insides.

But suddenly the door to the back room flew open and a very thin woman in her fifties charged in.