I nod. “Do you think I’d lie about something that could be disproven so easily?”
“I don’t know you. But…no. It would be a particularly stupid move.” She turns to Parker. “Do you have anything to say?”
Parker’s smile is stiff, but she doesn’t lose her composure. “There’s no secret, Catherine. How your heart resonates is what matters. My paintings are all about how you feel when you look at them. If you’re happy, then that’s what the work is about. If it makes you sad, then that’s the theme. I don’t have any formal art training. I just rely on instinct and emotion. Viewers should let go of any preconceived notions and enjoy the work the way it’s presented, rather than trying to imbue it with a meaning that isn’t there. Blue curtains in a story don’t mean the character is depressed or the author was subtly commenting on her mood. The curtains are just blue, and how you feel is what’s important.”
“Okay.” Catherine nods.
“I believe my girlfriend. I’ve seen her working on these with my own eyes,” Rupert adds.
Catherine shoots him a brief glance, then texts something on her phone for a minute. We spend the next half-hour discussing art before an out-of-breath hotel staff member shows up with a flashlight. “Here you are, Ms. Fairchild.”
“Thank you.” She takes it and raises her voice. “Everyone, please stay calm. We’re going to turn off the lights for a few minutes.”
The hotel shuts off the lights in our section of the ballroom. I move closer to Ares in the sudden darkness.
Catherine clicks on the flashlight. Black light is cast over the canvas, sections of it glowing a bright bluish color, stains shaped like splatters and forming a V.
Ares inhales, and Parker lets out a sharp cry. Rupert curses. The light in Catherine’s hand trembles. Her phone buzzes, and she glances at it, then gasps.
“Do you believe me now?” I ask.
“Oh my God. Turn the lights back on.”
I blink a few times as bright light floods the exhibition hall again. Catherine’s complexion is chalky, except for the bright red of her cheeks.
Parker points at me, her finger trembling. “You threw some kind of fluid on it behind people’s backs, didn’t you? Why else would you tell Catherine to test it with black light? You’ve always hated me, but defacing my work like this is too much! I’ll sue!”
“This isn’t the only one that glowed in the dark.” Catherine’s voice is terribly cold. “I had my assistant at Barron’s gallery check.Passion Series Number OneandNumber Twoalso glowed. Trust me, since the works have joined Barron Sterling’s collection, nobody’s had an opportunity to touch them or alter them in any way.”
The color drains from Parker’s face. “Fuck,” Rupert mutters.
Ares looks at me curiously. He’s probably wondering the exact nature of the secret.
“You have lied to me, stolen from the real artist and defrauded Barron Sterling,” Catherine says. “Artworks worth millions.”
“Catherine, no! Don’t you trust me?”
“Trust? How when you’ve lied and refused to admit to it? If you were the true artist, the black-light reveal would have been the first thing you told me.”
“Art theft is a federal crime,” Ares says helpfully. “Along with transporting stolen artwork and defrauding the public. And unfortunately for you, the statute of limitations hasn’t run out. Enjoy your time in the federal penitentiary.”
I nod with satisfaction. That doesn’t seem like a terrible outcome for the duo, especially since I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get them for being part of the conspiracy to poison me.
“It wasn’t me! I didn’t want to do it!” Parker shrieks, then points at Rupert. “It’s him and his stepmom and dad! They said nobody would notice, and we’d all get rich! It’s just trash.” She gestures wildly at my paintings. “I just picked them up and sold them. Like garage sale! It’s no different.”
A bitter mixture of victory, sadness and contempt drips through me. It’s such karmic justice, albeit ugly. Parker is going to drag everyone down with her. Keeping her mouth shut has never been a strong point.
“You stupid bitch!” A loud smack of flesh hitting flesh cracks the room.
Parker cradles her cheek and stares at Rupert in disbelief. Everyone else does too, except me. I know he’s always had a problem controlling his temper—it’s part of his entitled personality. Everyone should do what he says or else suffer the consequences. He gets away with it in Nesovia, using my money as a shield. But here in America? He picked the wrong stage for his outburst.
Less than two minutes later, hotel security shows up along with a couple of uniformed police officers. Parker points at Rupert. “He hit me! Arrest him for assault!”
Ares leans forward. “Battery,” he says, sotto voce.
Catherine speaks in a low voice with one of the officers. He nods, and they grab Parker and Rupert and cuff them.
“Why are you arresting me?” Rupert says. “I didn’t do anything! She’s the one who stole from my cousin. I had no idea the paintings weren’t—”
