Murder at the Art Gallery Read online

  The Gallery would try to do one show a month, but sometimes it would take as long as two months to do an art show. Seeing that David's stuff was already in the gallery, they would probably have a post memoriam show and leave the pictures up while they set up for their next show. At least that's how I imagined it would be, but I guess I would find out later.

  As usual, Bernard arrived to work at noon, somewhat agitated, but that was his typical attitude. He struggled to move about the gallery- a limp from a previous car accident had given him the gait of a man twice his age, sometimes even having to resort to using a cane. He requested an impromptu meeting..

  “Good morning everybody, I have an announcement to make.” Bernard ambled slowly to the front of the gallery while Katie and I shot one another questioning glances. “We're going to have to cancel David's show.”

  “What? Why?” the staff murmured.

  Bernard answered. “Bad for business. What are we supposed to do? We don’t have an artist to discuss the art with the patrons. It would be a memorial service. No. We need to try to get someone-a living person- in here as quickly as possible. It’s an unfortunate situation, but the show must go on. So we’ll take the paintings down, and set up for some new show in the future.”

  I could not believe what I was hearing. Cancel David's show? Why? The pictures could hang till they found someone else, which could take weeks. Meanwhile, why the hurry about taking down the pictures? I gotta head this off at the pass.

  Somehow, someway I need to get Bernard to see that it would be better for the gallery to have a showing and a memorial, and we could advertise the whole thing on social media. I was going to have to schedule some time with him immediately before any of the pictures were removed. I tried to speak to him.

  “Hi Bernard, could I speak with you for fifteen a minute?”

  “Not now Mandy, I have a couple of appointments to attend to. I know you were close to David, you introduced us as a matter of fact, but there’s just no business in doing a showing for a dead artist.”

  I had to bite my tongue. I figured, he's looking at this situation as a business, not from the point of view a person whose dear friend had departed under horrible circumstances. I said, “Bernard give me 20 minutes, I have some ideas that I would like you to consider and they could be beneficial to the business.”

  I figured include that it would be “beneficial to the business” otherwise this was never going to fly.

  He said “Fine. Twenty minutes. I’ll be in my office. Come by around two o’ clock.”

  I was relieved that David’s paintings would remain displayed-at least for another two hours. I wasn’t sure how to persuade Bernard-I didn’t have ideas. I just said so because I knew he’d meet with me.

  Bernard retreated to his office and shut the door.

  “Guys, do me a favor,” I said to my coworkers, “leave the paintings up until I speak with Bernard. Please?”

  They readily agreed. I was grateful that they were sympathetic. They wished me luck with Bernard.

  The staff knew that Bernard was strange, but he wasn't a bad guy. Maybe business was bad and this just didn't sit well with him. Maybe it was just the strangeness of the whole situation. But whatever it was I had to get him out of the mindset that he had to take down David's pictures.

  I sat down to formulate a plan. I would get Jill's help- since she was the queen of social media and websites. We would have the show in memoriam. I would create a Facebook page for the gallery and David, showing how the gallery felt motivated to keep the spirit of David's art alive.

  David was well-loved by his community. Many people would pay to see his work-even if David wasn’t there. It would be good publicity for the gallery.

  I devised a plan with Jill to create stories about David on the Facebook page we were creating. We both agreed to advertise the showing on our social media platforms. I planned to tell Bernard these things during our meeting. He would be pleased that I expected no compensation. Bernard loved free advertising. He was cheap like that, even though he had all this money. A very strange character.

  But he was the owner, and he was the one that made the final decisions. I had to show him with my project, that people in the future would see him and the gallery as a benefactor of the arts, and as a result, he might get more clients and more people buying from him in the future. He really didn't advertise enough, but he also didn't know how to advertise.

  I really thought that between Jill and myself, we could put this exhibit on the map. We’d showcase the art ourselves, have a short memorial, and a few of us would give speeches. Bernard would be happy to give his speech, he loved being the big shot at such an event. We would film the show and the memorial to place on the gallery’s site.

  I felt great about our ideas. How could Bernard decline such an appeal to his humanity? I was always providing people with different options and paths with my cards. I often showed people that the world was colorful-not black and white. This was my gift, and it was time to use it.

  I got my chance to meet with Bernard. He spoke first.

  “I don't' know Mandy, this whole dead artist thing has cast a pallor on the gallery. Business isn't doing well to begin with. I didn't need this. Now what am I going to do?”

  “Listen Bernard, you're looking at this the wrong way. Nowadays you can turn this experience into something that would bring you more business and, at the same time, show the gallery in a new light.”

  “Bernard said, “Ok, I'm listening, what do you have?”

  “Whenever there’s a noble cause, people flock to social media to advertise it. You can create tributes, or ask for the support of the community to turn such a negative thing into something positive. We can create pubic interest in David’s show this way.”

  “Let me stop you right there Mandy, how much is this going to cost me?”

  “It's not going to cost you anything. I would take charge of the campaign and with the help of my friend, and put together a Facebook page for the gallery and a memorial in honor of David free of charge. My friend is great with social media and she could drive the right kind of traffic to this webpage This would put the gallery in a very good light because even though there was s terrible tragedy, the gallery did the right thing and had the showcase.

  During the showcase I give a short speech about David's life, you give a short speech about how David's pictures are an asset to the gallery. We'll film it and put it on the webpage. It will be great publicity for you, for the gallery, and it would show you as a great benefactor of the arts. You will definitely get a surge in business.”

  Bernard was listening and nodding. Finally he spoke.

  “I'll tell you the truth Mandy, I'm still not sold on this 100%. But show me the webpage you and your friend create. I’ll see how things look and we'll take it from there. ”

  “I’ll have something solid for you to look at tomorrow. Please, just keep the schedule for David’s showing. Don’t retract invitations. And it may not be profitable right off the bat, but it will be in the long term.”

  Finally Bernard said,

  “Okay, we'll talk tomorrow after I see the page.”

  “Thank you, Bernard. You’ll be pleased with the outcome,” I said as I closed his office door.

  I was excited that even though I didn't get a resounding yes, I didn't get a no either, and I was sure I could get Katie to help me out as well.

  I called Jill and told her my plan. She was excited, she knew exactly what to do regarding the Facebook page. Katie was kind enough to lend me a hand, also. She loved my idea, and was thrilled that we could still honor David’s memory. We determined that I would be the one responsible for writing the speeches for the event.

  Of course, the pessimist in me started thinking as I was walking away. What if this guy didn't like it. What if he changed his mind? He was weird a lot of the time and there was no telling what he might do. Well, I said to myself, if he decides not to have the memorial showing, hopefully
there will be pictures of the paintings and we'll post those on Facebook fan page and promote it. That way, not matter what happens, at least David's work will not be forgotten and I'll feel like I did something to honor his memory. I also felt better that I had the help from Jill and Katie. Having help will also bring new ideas to the project, in case things didn’t work out the way I had hoped they would.

  The rest of the day I was spent filling out orders for previous prints of previous shows and keeping track of who was buying what. It was all pretty mundane, but it was a job and I was still hoping that they would hire me full time.

  .

  I could still do my readings on the side for extra money, but at least I would have a steady income. Here again, I didn't' want to get my hopes up, but I had been here three months and so far they liked me a lot and I liked the place and the people. They're all in the arts and they're all sort of quirky and I always gravitated to artsy types all my life, so I felt very much at home. Time would tell but so far it it seemed a strong possibility I would get hired..

  *****

  Finally it came time to go home. I was looking forward to designing the page with Jill. I was also looking forward to hanging out with Roger. Not having had a cat for so long, I had to keep reminding myself that I finally had a cat, so every now and then I would think, maybe I'll do this after work or that after work and then I would say, no I have to go home and feed Roger, I have to go home and take Roger for a walk. Roger was becoming a part of my life slowly but surely. I still missed Fluffy but Roger had been a good choice. We were going to be friends for a long time.

  I had the urge to turn my steering wheel in the direction of the police station-to speak with Fred about David again. The need hit me in a sudden, urgent way that I couldn’t shake.

  But what good would it do? No. I needed to get home to Roger.

  Still that nagging feeling inside of me kept telling me that something was off here, that David's death was not a suicide. Maybe when I was calmer I would either do a chart or do another reading of the Tarot cards and see if they hinted at something. Sometimes the things you would least expect came out of these readings. They didn't tell the future exactly, but they made you think about what could be or what could have been. And sometimes you got what had been and that's really what I was after. The truth was out there, but where?

  Chapter Five

  Later that night, after I’d settled in and fed Roger his dinner, I tried calling Margot, David's mother, again. The phone rang about five times before she picked up.

  “Hi Mandy.,” Margot said. Her voice was strained. She sounded much older than the last time we had spoken

  “Hi Margot, I was just calling to see how you were, if you needed any help, and if there was anything I could do?”

  “Well Mandy, yesterday was the worse day of my life. I still feel a bit numb. I’ve heard from so many of David’s friends. Their words and support mean so much to me. A lot of people loved David. I don't know why he didn't love himself.”

  “Oh, Margot. David loved himself. It’s possible that this whole thing could have been an accident. When I last saw David, he was thrilled that his art was being recognized. He was happy, Margot. The police had to label it a suicide based on their discoveries. David did not die of misery,” I said. I didn’t lie for Margot’s benefit. David had been happy.

  There was a sniffle and a pause at the other end of the line. Just that sniffle from a grieving mother brought a mist to my eyes.

  “Thank you, Mandy. You were one of David's best friends and I hear in your voice that you loved him. It makes me feel better to think that my son didn't throw his life away for nothing.”

  “I’m sure we’ll find out that it was exactly that,” I said. A chill crawled up my spine, but I shook it off. “Have the police left his apartment?”

  “Oh yes, they told me I could go in there again if I like. To tell you the truth I have a difficult time with that thought. Even though I have to clean up and pack his things, the thought of doing that for my son is devastating. A parent is not supposed to outlive their children. Why was my son's life cut short?” Margot’s voice became distant as a sob tore through the line. She had likely tried to move her phone from her lips to avoid startling me. Even in grief, Margot considered others.

  “I don't know Margot. But please, don't even think for a moment that you're going to do this by yourself. When you are ready to work on the apartment I will help with the whole project. If we need more people, I'll get more people. You're not alone in this world Margot. You have me and you have other's that were David's friends. I lost my husband five years ago. He was only forty-eight. Nobody saw that coming. I completely understand sudden death and being left so empty. So whenever the time comes Margot, when you're ready, I'll be there with you.”

  “Thank you so much Mandy, that makes me feel so much better that I won't be alone doing this. I truly appreciate it. I'm sorry to say, I'm going to have to be going as some of the family have come over and they're helping me plan the funeral. As soon as we know where the showing is going to be, and when, I'll give you call.”

  “Oh yes please Margot, do let me know and I'll spread the word, to mutual friends and to other of David's friends. I feel much better having had the chance to talk to you.”

  “Me too Mandy, me too, thank you so much.”

  Roger rubbed his face against my leg. He had likely sat at my feet while I was talking with Margot. I reached down to scratch Roger’s ears, and he rewarded me with a hearty purr. It was wonderful to not feel so alone. And he was such a brave cat.

  If David had felt less alone, perhaps his death wouldn’t have happened. How far was I from such a fate? If it could happen so suddenly to David, why not me? Why not any of my other friends?

  Still there was that nagging feeling inside of me. Had David gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd? What if there was some sinister element to his death that had been overlooked? Could it have been that another artist had been jealous of him? Could someone have given David that pill, claimed it was an aspirin, and then watched as it killed him?

  Someone at the funeral might know something. But what? What did I want to know? If a jealous artist killed David? That didn’t happen. That was insane. That was something drug dealers in turf wars did – not people with creative tendencies.

  I got up from the couch and washed my face. I didn’t need more stress at that moment. It was fine. I was grieving. I was just angry that I didn’t know David had been sad, that he hadn’t told me he was struggling.

  I would keep an open mind, an open heart. I would speak with others at the funeral-especially those I didn’t recognize. I had to put my negative feelings to rest. I just needed closure.

  This was crazy though, trying to think of who might have killed David. And then I had to think how I was going to approach these people. It's not like I would say, “Hi you look weird or strange and I think you might have killed David, can I talk to you??” That wasn't going to go over very well. No, there had to be a different way to approach people. See if anybody knew anything secret about David. His boyfriend might give a clue as to who David hung out with and if there were any rival artists worth talking to.

  I thought about Mike the drug dealer. Maybe he could tell me who bought opioid painkillers from him recently, although I doubted that. But I could show him David's picture and just answer if this guy bought stuff from him. Explain the situation. He knew me from back I high school and he liked me, although when talking about clients, drug dealers were notoriously tight lipped. You're only as good as your discretion. At least I would know if David bought something from him or not. Of course, he could have bought it off someone else. But it didn't hurt to ask. The worst that could happen is that Mike doesn't want to cooperate and that's that.

  Then there's also the possibility whether anybody had anything to gain by David's death. I had to explore his will or living revocable trust and see if there was someone that could have benefited from his dea
th. Maybe there was an insurance policy that nobody knew about. I just felt there had to be something.

  At least I'd gotten an idea of how to talk to people I didn't know who might have been up to no good in David's life. I would pretend that I was writing a piece on David as part of a memorial. It wouldn't be a lie, that's exactly what I was doing. But that would give me the chance to talk to all these people who may have known things about David that I didn't know about and things that maybe he had entrusted one of them with.

  You know what they say, rattle enough bushes and eventually, something leaps out. I just hope that whatever leaps out doesn't come after me too. That was the something that was freaking me out. If indeed this turned out to be a murder, this was dangerous, I could get hurt or worse. Well, if I dug up anything that the cops could follow up on, I would take it to Fred.

  Or if I came across a conversation that supplied some kind of lead, I would take Jill with me. Two chickens are better than one, it's not like Jill was any heroine. But at least I wouldn't be alone. And Jill was very creative with slightly devious stuff. And of course, bring Roger, although I would never forgive myself if something happened to him. All this thinking was making me crazy. Now I really felt like I was in some noir novel and the killer was onto my snooping and figuring out how the murder happened.

  Suddenly there was a knock on the door and I leapt about a foot in the air. Roger came out of his semi sleepy state to see what made that noise. I went to the door and of course, it was Jill. I had asked her to come over and help me with this fan page on Facebook for David.

  Jill as usual, had one hand on her cell phone while having a conversation with others around her. She was constantly on her phone and she spent more time looking at her phone screen than actually looking around her. She had an outline of her plan for the Facebook page ready to go.