Chapter 35
It was too cold to wear a spring dress, but it didn't stop me. The white spaghetti strap dress splashed with orange flowers was adorable, and more than likely I'd freeze to death in it. But if I was going to die, I'd do it looking fantastic. It was spring, darn it, and I was going to enjoy my favorite season, even if the thermometer didn't want to cooperate.
I thumbed through the weather forecast on my phone as Monroe and I drove to the Portland Art Museum. Mostly cloudy and the high today was going to be fifty-nine degrees. I shook my head. The natives probably thought this was bikini weather. I looked up the forecast for Louisville. Sunny and seventy-five degrees. Now that was what spring was supposed to be like. Oh, May. In a little over six weeks from now I'd have the sunshine and the warmth on my skin again.
"Finally, some real art," Monroe commented as we pulled in front of the museum.
"You deserve it after going through the art gala for me," I replied as I stashed my phone away in my bag. "But I'm happy to see art in any form."
There were many parking spaces to choose from, and we found a spot close to the entrance. We walked into the barren lobby. It was unusually deserted in the museum today. The only person visible was the admission clerk behind the guest services counter.
"You know, the movie theaters are constantly packed, but here you get some real culture and no one's around to appreciate it," Monroe shook his head disappointedly as we walked toward the gallery.
"But it makes it more intimate for us if there's no one around." I stole a kiss emphasizing my point.
"Okay. Well, I suppose that's a plus." He pulled me close to him as we walked around the near empty corridors and took in the history of all these late, great artists.
"Here we go!" said Monroe as we rounded the corner to the next gallery room. "I wanted to show you these." Monroe pointed to three pieces side-by-side on the wall. "They're the Meisterstiche by Albrecht Dürer."
"Meisterstiche?" I couldn't figure out the translation of the German.
"Master engravings," replied Monroe with a grin. "Dürer was a Renaissance Artist, engraver, printmaker, mathematician, and theorist from Nuremberg, Germany. The man was, like, a genius. You know, his woodcuts revolutionized the art of engraving."
We walked over to one titled Melencolia I.
"But this one... This one I never get tired of looking at."
I could understand why. It was a mixture of beauty, sadness, and symbolism. A brooding winged being sat in apparent dejection, head in hand, surrounded by unused objects of science, craft, and art. Her face was like a mask of darkness, but her bright eyes glared, as if she were staring down the cause of her misery. Everything else about her seemed lost and exhausted in her pose. Science and math were laced here and there.
I focused on the square of numbers in the corner behind her.
"Is that a magic square?" I asked Monroe.
"Good eye. Yeah, the numbers all add up to thirty-four." Monroe pointed to the corners as I mentally tallied the sum.
"Why thirty-four?"
Monroe shrugged. "Your guess is as good as any. Dürer was forty-three when he engraved this one, so some say it's the reverse of his age. There are whole books dedicated to understanding the meaning of this particular engraving."
I turned back to the piece. "The details are just so intricate."
"You can lose track of time in the details, man." I looked over as he grinned.
We moved from one gallery to the next, pausing here and there, talking nonstop about colors and lines, visionary landscapes, bold hues, textures, and brushstrokes. We discussed it all. Monroe was completely engaged as I held his hand. This was intellectual love.
After we'd finished with the first floor, we took the stairs to the second level.
In the main gallery was the exhibit of the Italian artist, Titian's La Bella.
"Oh, let's start in here first," I said.
We walked up to the painting as another couple ooh'd and ahh'd over the work of art. Hanging before us in a gilded frame was a portrait of a woman in a blue dress and it was quite a masterpiece. Extra care had been made to dress up the wall. A royal purple backdrop was draped behind it, enlivening the colors and giving it a majestic touch. Even the lighting had been adjusted. The room was low-lit, except for the one showcasing the painting.
"This is the first time it's been in the U.S.," I overheard the woman comment to the man she was with. "I can't believe we got it first. That new curator is amazing. Maybe she'll bring more prizes like this to Portland."
I grinned slightly. Oh, Madame Dazzles was something, all right. But amazing? I'm sure she would wholeheartedly agree with this lady that she was.
Once the couple had moved off to the side, Monroe and I had a chance to admire it.
"Just look at that smooth transition in the lines, man. Now that's a beauty."
I nodded. "It doesn't even look like a painting. The exactness is like a photo."
"Back then these were the photos," Monroe chuckled. "Kodak's got nothing on talent like this."
He turned toward me. "There's one more thing I need to tell you, err, show you." He shook his head. "It's in one of the other galleries. This piece, it's just… well once you see it I think you'll understand."
"Sure, let's go."
"Lemme just stop in there a minute first." He pointed to the restrooms behind us. "I'll be right back, Hun."
"I'll be right here."
While Monroe was gone, I glanced back over to La Bella. This Renaissance painting was absolutely beautiful and it deserved a second look. I studied the detail of the brushstrokes on the woman's porcelain face. From the blush of her cheeks, to her eyes, which were bold and honest, yet demure as they looked off to the side, she was definitely a work of art. This lady was certainly well-to-do. The braids in her hair alone would've taken a servant hours to arrange. Her hair's gold highlights accented her blue and gold dress perfectly. Titian had left nothing out of place and I was in awe. I adored this piece and was drawn in, mesmerized by her beauty.
A woman's shriek to my right knocked me out of my trance. I turned to the other couple in the room and they gasped while pointing to someone dressed all in black from head to toe. The couple ran out leaving me alone with this mysterious person. My eyes followed the black-clad figure as they ran toward La Bella. The outfit clung tightly and it didn't take much to realize she was female. On her back held a small, wooden crossbow and a black satchel. The news reports! Was this the same thief? I jumped back quickly, but I remained fixed on her.
She leapt like a ninja over the gold, velvet ropes that were draped around the perimeter of the painting. Just as quickly as she had leapt, the Ninja removed the painting of La Bella, replacing it with a blue card she pulled from her satchel.
My woge of recklessness burst forward. I had to stop her! The Ninja turned in my direction as I moved forward. Piercing blue eyes stared at me through the opening of her black hood. Suddenly the visible part of her face sprang out dark fur surrounding her eyes. She retracted quickly and I remained still, not reacting to her woge. She was Wesen, no doubt.
One of art gallery guards ran up and the Ninja spun toward him.
"Don't move!" the guard yelled, reaching for the gun on his holster.
The Ninja ignored him and deftly grabbed the crossbow from her back. Before the guard could remove his gun, she shot him with one-handed precision. The arrow plunged into his chest and he immediately fell to the ground. Holy crap, she killed him!
My eyes snapped back to the Ninja. Setting the painting down for a split second, she reloaded the crossbow. The alarms in my head screamed at me to get the hell out of there. Sometimes my curiosity overshadowed my intelligence. My recklessness encouraged me to rush forward, but before I could move, the Ninja pointed the crossbow at me while holding the painting with her right hand. My heart caught in my throat! Why didn't I just leave when I had the chance?
There was a flash of recognition in those blue eyes and the Ninja flinched at me. Or maybe she recognized I knew what she was. I wasn't sure of anything at the moment. I held my breath, expecting to be as dead as the guard soon, so it wouldn't matter what the Ninja thought.
Before the crossbow was shot, the art gallery alarms went off, halting her aim. The Ninja put the crossbow away, leapt back over the ropes, and with La Bella under her arm she was out the door in an instant.
I held my hand to my chest, catching my breath. The whole scene took all of a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity as that crossbow was aimed at my head. I was still frozen in place like a statue. A hand touched my back and I about jumped out of my skin.
"What's going on?" Monroe asked as I let out a yelp.
"Robbery," I breathed out, pointing at the vacant spot where La Bella once hung. "And murder," I added looking once more at the dead guard. This hadn't been the first murder I'd witnessed, but it didn't make it any easier. My body was catching up to the reality of what just happened and I was shaking.
"Oh geez, I wasn't gone all that long," he exclaimed and I turned and hugged him tightly.
"The thief wasn't human," I whispered into Monroe's ear as I held him. "Can you use your nose?"
"Yeah, no problem," Monroe replied as he let me go. He inched closer to the velvet ropes, but stayed a good distance away from the dead guard. He took a sniff in and shook his head while walking back toward me.
"Waschbar, without a doubt," Monroe said in a hushed tone. "Female. She's wearing Chanel No. 5, which is a little too cliché for my taste."
"Waschbar?" I asked. "It was a raccoon?"
"Yep, that'd be a Waschbar, all right."
"Better call Nick," we both said, almost in unison.
Monroe pulled out his cell as more guards came into the gallery. One of the guards approached us.
"Are you folks all right?" he asked and we nodded. "We need to clear this room. Can you both follow me please?" We walked out as the guards put up velvet ropes in front of the room, similar to those that were around La Bella. The museum was full of clamor as the dozen or so patrons had gathered upstairs and were obstreperously shouting to the guards to find out what had happened. They flooded near the room while the guards were trying to keep them out. Monroe was still talking to Nick on the phone as we walked away from all the din.
"Is that really necessary, Nick?" Monroe asked into his cell. "Oh man… Well, I suppose we'll be here then." I gave him a puzzled look while he put his phone back in his pocket.
"Nick says if you saw the whole thing you'll need to come to the station more than likely." He sighed heavily. "He's on his way here now."
"Oh, boy." I sighed right along with him.
Monroe put a hand on my shoulder. "We gotta stay here until they arrive."
"Guess we better find a seat."
A/N: Okay, so I'm trying on my own 'Wesen of the Week' arch. Enjoy!
The word "obstreperously" was a joke from the episode 'The Good Shepherd.' It was a closed captioning word used as the parishioner sheep were loudly shouting in one scene. It was such an interesting word, that I vowed to use it my story. Kudos to Helena for pointing the word out! (There ya go! LOL!)
La Bella is the painting we see in 'Love Sick,' just to refresh your memories. (There's a link of the painting on my profile, too) It's making an appearance a bit earlier than in the show. Or, since it was just stolen, perhaps I should say disappearance, huh?
Albrecht Dürer is a widely discussed artist. He was the answer to a bar trivia question a month ago, and I'd never heard of him until then. I looked him up, and he just seemed like a Monroe type artist, with the engraving and the German background. I have links on my profile for the Meisterstiche, if you wanna take a look. (: