Louise was ecstatic. An art thief on the loose!
She looked at her Kuchi Kopi phone case, expectantly. With Lobsterfeast approaching next week, she knew Bosco would reluctantly phone his best consulting detective. The idea for which she thieved, but she didn't think ol' Doyle would mind. Aside from being dead longer than she'd been alive, she felt that she exceeded Holmes in solving mysterious cases by solving real cases and Doyle ought to appreciate that.
The screen lit up, "Bosco, buddy, hello. What do you need?"
Bosco grumbled about not requiring the help of a psychopath, before sighing and suggesting maybe it would be helpful if she came down to the station.
Grabbing her favourite hoody off the hanger, Louise all but skipped out the door. Few things in life compared to the thrill of chasing a smart criminal. (Sorry, Mickey!) The stakes were at their highest between crime scenes when the town was silently waiting for the next strike. While others cowered, Louise felt alive. And today, the hunt has begun anew.
Bosco was fighting with someone as Louise strolled into the station. She took in the smell of burnt coffee as she marched up to Bosco.
"I'm here." She announced, stepping into the heated conversation. Bosco stared at her incredulously, veining pulsing in his reddened face. He seemed to be frozen, so Louise turned to excuse his combatant from the conversation, "I trust you can pick up this fight…Holy. Shit."
"Yeap," the man replied with a grimace. His sea-coloured eyes were stormy with annoyance as Louise stared at him hardly fathoming the sight before her. His sandy hair swept away from his eyes and gelled into place, his face was smooth, and he smelled faintly of sandalwood. She took in his navy, well-fitted suit, his polished shoes, and gaped a bit longer.
"Hello, Louise," Logan said, neutrally, as if he weren't surprised that his nemesis throughout high school had interrupted his argument with the police captain. As if he expected her to step into any conversation, unwelcomed, at any time in his life.
"What are you doing here?" she asked incredulously.
"I am doing well. Thank you. And, you? Is that family of yours still flipping the best burgers in town?" Logan smiled at the shock on her face before continuing, "Well, I really must be going. Bosco, please do let me know when you have put an end to this nonsense."
As he walked off, Bosco blew out a weary gust of air and muttered, "This day is unbelievable."
Shaking herself off from the surprise, Louise followed Bosco into a conference room. The old, stained wooden table which usually occupied the majority of the room was shoved against the near wall, leaving room for a series of standing whiteboards covered in notes, images, and documentation.
"I've got it from here," Louise said, dismissing Bosco before he could say anything. He shook his head and left the room, closing the door behind him. The evidence, files, and scene sang to her in a way that Bosco never understood. He would insist on running down the details of the case for her, but he always missed the most significant bits and focused too much on arbitrary distractions. She found it easiest to excuse him early and focus on the problem alone.
Our little mouse is good, Louise thought as she chewed her pen.
A Cranwinkle original had been stolen from the local artist display of the Warf Arts Centre. While the reproduction was perfect in every way, the thief had replaced Edith's signature with a question mark. The curator had noticed this morning but feared the painting may have been stolen any time during her recent holiday. The cost of a Cranwinkle had soared since Edith passed a few years ago, but they were not in the area of a white-collar thief. Which suggested the motive was to prove that the criminal could dupe the police more than cashing in on the stolen goods. Images of the scene only showed a clean museum with little evidence.
Oh, she is really good.
Louise laid back imagining the thief working on the replica, mimicking the strokes of the original. As she pictured the attention to detail required to copy a painting with such precision. It must have taken weeks to produce, the long, boring trips to the museum to memorise and verify each microscopic detail of Edith's best work.
"Oh! That's brilliant!" Louise jumped up and ran out of the station.
Logan walked away from the station annoyed and bemused. Annoyed the police department did not seem to understand the importance of catching a criminal. He felt the police of all people in this little town would agree with him and let him help fund their investigation. He had no intention of having his private collection violated by this fraudster. Unlike the small art centre Fischoeder built to draw in the older crowd, Logan's collection housed priceless originals that he spent his life acquiring. If the thief were to turn his expertise toward Logan's own collection, his career could be ruined.
Yet, Logan was amused at the absurdity of running into Louise after all these years. Little Four Ears was a far cry from the lanky middle schooler he recalled from his senior year. The woman he'd just seen had a tangle of black hair held back by a pink ribbon, glowering amber eyes, and stood just under his chin. Her well-worn hoodie hinted at a figure beneath that he wondered at for an instant before shaking away the odd exchange for what it was, a strange moment in this strange little town with that once strange little girl.