Chapter 28
"I want a printout of that article," Don said with a hard edge to his voice. "And, Ben, come with me."
Ben stood, handed me his laptop and followed Don from the room.
"Don," I said, standing. "What..."
"Stay here, Maggie. I just have a few questions for your husband."
I sat back down and scowled at Don's back, then at Farnsworth. "What the hell are you doing, Dr. Farnsworth? Are you trying to get back at Ben for making a fool of you?"
Farnsworth looked genuinely surprised. "No! Not like this! I wouldn't undermine the investigation. Not when there's a chance that the Gardner theft could be solved."
"You're forgetting I saw the way you acted at the Getty Museum yesterday. You don't give a damn about the investigation."
"Maggie," Megan said softly. "It sounds like you could use a break."
I shook my head. "No, thanks, Megan. I'm good. It's just frustrating." I blinked back tears. Of all the times to get emotional!
"I know. It's gotta be tough, getting settled in a new job in a new area, and then the attack in your office."
I shrugged, not trusting my voice. The last thing I needed at that moment was somebody being kind and understanding. It would turn me into a whimpering pile of jello.
Lucky for me, Farnsworth decided to pipe up. "Well, Megan, if your boss hadn't made the mistake of..."
Megan turned on Farnsworth, and for the first time I actually felt sorry for him. "Listen, Dr. Farnsworth, you are here ONLY because Special Agent Galster was under the impression that you could contribute SOMETHING positive to this investigation. You're lucky I'm not the lead agent on this case, or your ass would be on the next plane to Boston."
I saw David and Colby exchanging amused glances before I dared to look at Farnsworth. I don't believe I ever saw anybody sputter before that moment. His mouth hung open and twitched soundlessly.
Charlie glanced up at the disturbance, and grinned at Farnsworth. "I wouldn't mess with Megan. She teaches Krav Maga, and she won't hesitate to use it on you."
"What the hell is Krav Maga?" Farnsworth said, clearly relieved at the distraction.
"She'll give you a demonstration if you're not careful," Colby growled.
Farnsworth's eyes widened. He was clearly trying to decide if he was being teased. He decided to play it safe. "Okay. This isn't getting us anywhere." He went back to reading the file in front of him.
I looked back at Ben's laptop. "I wonder where the information in this article came from," I said to nobody in particular. I scrolled back to the top of the article and began to read silently. Remember the biggest ever art theft in US history? Well, one of the paintings stolen sixteen years ago from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston has resurfaced, only to be stolen again. Dr. Bennington Cole, published expert on the impressionists, who now teaches art history at a little backwater art college in upstate New York, had his hands on the Manet that was stolen. Unfortunately, he let it slip through his fingers... I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair. After a few deep breaths, I forced myself to continue. Working in conjunction with the FBI in Los Angeles, but without the one key piece of physical evidence, Dr. Cole is attempting to solve a crime that has eluded experts for sixteen years. Will he succeed where the FBI and Interpol have failed? Stay tuned, boys and girls.
I looked up at the rest of the group sitting around the table. "How do I print this for Don?"
"Here," Amita said as she came over and sat in Ben's chair. "Let me." She pressed a few keys, called up the print setup window and selected a printer. "This is the printer next to Don's desk." She put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, Maggie. We'll figure this out."
I tried to smile. "Thanks. I hope you're right."
She waved a hand at the group sitting around the table. "With all this brainpower in one room, how can we fail?"
This time I really smiled. "Good point. Thanks, Amita."
She went back to her computer, and I went back to the article. I clicked on the "home" icon to try to find out what I could about the publisher. It took me to the home page of something called 'art against the wall.' This time I clicked on the "history" icon. 'Art against the wall' was originally an underground newspaper in the late '60's. It started as sixteen mimeographed pages, later printed as a tabloid newspaper. Finally, it became a website. But its underground mission never changed.
I looked up as Ben came back into the room. He sat back next to me, and said, "Don got the printout. He's trying to contact the author now. I doubt if he'll learn anything though. First amendment, freedom of the press and all that. Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"
I glanced at Megan, who grinned and shook her head. "Nah, just reading boring reports."
"Good," he looked at the computer. "Did you learn anything about this article?"
"Not much. Have you ever heard of 'art against the wall?'"
His brow furrowed, and he rubbed his chin. "Sounds familiar. It's a newspaper, isn't it? Kind of avant garde, articles berating art snobs like us?"
"Got it in one," I said. "I don't know if they publish a print copy any more or if they're just on the web. I was just starting to read up on them when you came back. By the way, how'd your conversation with Don go?"
Ben glanced up, then looked at me. "Okay. He just wanted to know what I knew about this 'art against the wall' group. Or person. Or whatever it is." He shrugged. "I have no idea where they got their information, and told him as much." He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "So does anybody know where we go from here?"
Megan said, "We go through this," she waved at the stacks of folders on the table, "until we find a clue."
David shook his head. "I have never felt less like I had a clue." He grinned. "I don't think that sentence even made any sense."
Colby shook his head. "The scary thing was I think I understood it."
Megan glanced at her watch. "I think we're reaching the point of diminishing returns." She smirked at Charlie. "Did I use that correctly?"
Charlie looked up from his computer. "Well, in an idiomatic sense, you're fine. Strictly speaking, 'diminishing returns' is an economic term, short for 'diminishing marginal returns'..."
"Okay! I'll settle for idiomatic," Megan said, laughing. "I'm gonna go tell Don we've diminished our returns enough for one day."
