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Then, she snaps, “You promised.”
I’d love to laugh, but she looks super-duper angry. “I’m sorry, Molls. Never again.”
“That’s what you said the last time.” I watch her stomp off toward the back of the gallery and through the swinging door that leads to a tiny kitchenette.
“Can I show you that painting now, beautiful?”
Beautiful? I want to laugh, but I don’t. Instead, a plan starts to form. One that I’m pretty sure I can pull off. All I have to do is flirt a little.
Ugh. Flirt? I’m terrible at flirting.
I guess it’s worked a couple of times in the past. Once when I was pulled over for speeding. I flirted my way out of a ticket. And another time, I fluttered my lashes at an old guy so he’d let me cut in line at the bank because I was late for one of our events. Therefore, I’m not completely inept at the flirting.
“Sure.” I smile brightly at the man I now know as Frederick. I wonder how he’d feel about just Fred? The other seems very formal. “Lead the way, kind sir.” Then I giggle and not in a fake way. I literally find myself funny.
Fred leads me to the largest painting in the gallery. “Tell me how this one makes you feel.”
It’s very colorful. Bright, happy colors, but there are lots of black lines running all over the place. They’re jagged, angry lines. I’m not sure what his intention was, but I’m going to tell him the truth. “I, uh, it’s angry. Like you were super-duper mad at someone when you painted it.”
He blinks at me, a sort of blank expression. I’m not sure how to take it. Glancing back at the painting, I see the tag next to it with the title, “The Happiest Day of My Life.”
“Oh.” I want to laugh. I really do, but if the look that’s still on his face is a clue, I’d better not. I’m about to apologize, when I’m suddenly pushed into the man. It happens so fast; all I can do is reach my hands out to brace myself. I end up flat up against Fred. He wraps his arms around me, and his expression changes to something completely different. Not in a good way, either.
“Well, isn’t this cozy.”
I do my best to pull away from him, but he’s got a good hold on me. And then, I remember. He’s got the necklace in his pocket. Now’s my chance. But wait, maybe I should think this through a bit longer. Now that I know where the locket is, I can go to the police—get them to re-open the investigation into the stolen necklace…
No. that won’t work. Look who owns it. I don’t know anything about these two people, but what I do know is they’re rich, and rich people never get into trouble. The odds of me getting the locket back from these two is less than zero. No. I need to take advantage of this opportunity. Now.
I slide one hand around his back like I like the idea of getting cozy with a complete stranger while I’m at work. Next, the other hand, my right one moves down to the pocket that holds my destiny.
Before you roll your eyes at that description, it’s how my grandma spoke of the locket. “Find it, Lucy-loo-loo. It’s your destiny.”
See?
Working quickly, I slip my hand into his pocket, and it’s there. I feel it. Grasping the large heart in my hand, the rubies and diamonds feel rough in my palm. I grip it like my life depends on it. As carefully as I can, I begin to pull the necklace up and out. It’s then it occurs to me. Once it’s out, where will I put it? I’ve got a red cocktail dress on with no pockets. No matter. I’ll figure it out later. Right now, my only job is to get the locket out of his pocket.
Hehe. I rhymed.
As I pull my hand out, the crush around us suddenly widens, giving us more room. Fred loosens his arms from around me and steps back. The gentle jingling of the chain coming out is probably what gave me away, because Fred is now staring down at my hand. The one fisted around the locket. The chain isn’t completely out of his jacket, which means, he knows.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Think fast, Lucy.
“Huh?”
Well, that was dumb.
Fred grips my wrist tightly. “I said, what the hell are you doing, bitch?”
Now, that’s uncalled for. “Excuse me? I’m not a bi–a B.”
“The fact you’re attempting to steal my grandmother’s necklace says otherwise.”
See, that’s where he’s wrong. It’s not her necklace. It’s mine.
“Frederick?” The tall lady approaches. “What’s going on?”
