Page 78 of Caper Crush
“Is it absolute hopelessness?” Uncle Tony replies.
“Or is it hope?” Takashi asks.
The art gallery attendant reads them a snippet from the catalog.
“Yes, but we should dig deeper than that. What does that mean?” Takashi asks. William, in the background, asks for the bathroom key. I call Uncle Tony’s phone.
“Do you see here, how the white becomes almost translucent? Do you think that was intentional? What do you think that was meant to convey?”
Uncle Tony’s phone rings with the song “Burning Down the House.”
We planned that song playing to cover the sound of the desk drawer opening and closing.
I hope it works. The window is covered by a UV-light-protection curtain.
Scritch-screech.William opens the window. It sounds like that window hasn’t been opened since I left. I crawl inside, swinging my leg over to land on the wooden floor of the storage room.
Via the app, I hear Uncle Tony say, “Maybe the meaning is that all white seems like it’s a blank canvas, open and revealing, but it’s just as effective a screen as any other color. It’s only when it becomes translucent that the viewer can see the canvas. Do you think the artist wants us to see the canvas? Is that to reveal reality?”
The attendant says, “That’s interesting.”
“It is calledAn Absence of Illusions,” Takashi says.
Good title.Are any illusions holding me back from discovering the thief?
The storage room looks the same. The paintings slide into deep, wooden cupboards organized by the artist’s last name. Larger paintings are stored in the second row by the closet.
“Okay, I’ll check out the closet in the back,” I say. “You look through the paintings for the Kimimoto andPlaying Around. Or the two wrapped packages.” The tracking app still shows the location as the gallery. But maybe Vinnie unwrapped the packages and found the tracking device.
The walk-in storage closet is also still the same. A mess of packaging and office supplies. I look through the shelves and boxes, but there are no paintings hidden.
Tony says, “Well, white is an absence of color, so that ties in to the title.”
“Do you know the guy who went to the bathroom? He’s been gone a long time,” the gallery attendant says.
“Can you explain to us more about this all-orange painting?” Takashi asks.
I join William in the main storage room. “No Kimimoto orPlayingin the closet.” I flip through the section of paintings William hasn’t yet gone through.
“Look! His two wrapped-up paintings,” William says.
I remove the tracking device, storing it back in my little knapsack, and pull out my pocketknife. I carefully slice between the tape and the paper.
“Vinnie! How great to see you,” Uncle Tony exclaims loudly.
We look at each other in horror.
“C’mon,” I say. My hands are shaking. “Hold it carefully.” I slide the painting out of the paper wrapping. It’s Vinnie’s888.
“We should go,” William says.
“Let’s just check this one,” I say.
“I should check the bathroom,” the gallery attendant says. “That guy has been in the bathroom a long time.”
“Let’s go,” William says.
“William went to the bathroom,” Takashi says.
