Page 13 of No Artful Refusal
Before Marlene could finish, Devyn had dropped money in the tip jar and was out the door, racing for her car.
She would not fail her friend.
Chapter 6
Inside the museum,Cade and Hoffman were met with the cool, dry air and a serene stillness.Reclaimed wood floors anchored the space that spread out before them.Definitely bigger inside.Calm white walls were filled with carefully lit artwork.Pedestals showcased small sculptures placed for ideal viewing.A short, lean man approached, striding with purpose.His dark hair—gray at the temples—was combed back from an austere face.He wore a polo shirt emblazoned with the college logo buttoned to the throat tucked into black slacks with a crease sharp enough to cut glass.
“Manuel Rodriguez,” he said, extending his hand to Hoffman.“Thank you for coming.”
She nodded and introduced Cade before asking the curator to walk them through the problem.
Manuel paused to take a breath.“An important painting has gone missing.Stolen, I’m sure.This way.”He tipped his head toward the wide hallway that stretched back from where they stood.
Cade glanced to the right and left, taking note of the layout of the various galleries as he listened to the curator.
“Paula Sorensen’s painting was in storage.”Manuel paused in front of an elevator wrapped with the college logo.“We don’t keep it on display all year, though I’ve often said we should.She was a remarkable talent.The college was blessed to have her so close.”
A troubling uneasiness swirled in Cade’s gut.He should’ve handled the tip right away.Then again, if Devyn had called it in, wouldn’t the psychic know he’d ignore it?
“Where was the painting last seen?”Hoffman asked.
“In the storeroom,” Manuel replied, pressing the button.
He answered a few more basic questions as they rode the elevator down to the lower level.
When they stepped out, Hoffman elbowed Cade.“Just think, you might’ve prevented this if you’d taken action on that tip.”
She’d kept her voice low, but the curator heard and whipped around.“You got a tip about Janice?”
“Hold on.Who is Janice?”Hoffman asked with convincing innocence.
“Janice Willoughby,” Manuel said.“She’s working on her doctorate.”His gaze rose to the ceiling.“Of course, her thesis is tied to Monet.”He tugged on an ear.“So many of them feel a bond with Monet.”
“But not you?”Cade queried.
A corner of Manuel’s mouth twitched up.“I was young once,” he admitted.“And I went through the same phase myself.”He shrugged narrow shoulders.“It’s impossible not to, especially if the impressionist movement reaches into your soul.”He held up one hand.“But.I’ve never had anyone in the program steal a masterpiece.And I can’t imagine why Janice would do it.”
