Jose Somoza - Art of Murder

She walked carefully back to the bathroom in order not to crack the paint on her body, and put on one of the robes hanging on the door. She usually liked to wear something when she had been painted so she would not spoil it while she ate or rested.

In the kitchen, a surprise was waiting for her. Her food tray was in the same place as the previous day, but this time Gerardo was sitting opposite her. He was taking the top off a pizza he had heated in the microwave. So it seemed they were going to eat together. She wondered where Uhl was, and why he had not joined them. She guessed there must be serious disagreements between the two men. Throughout the morning, this had been obvious from their raised voices, terse orders, and long periods of uncomfortable silence. It seemed obvious to her that Gerardo gave in to his older colleague, either because he admired him, or perhaps simply because Uhl was a rung higher on the Foundation ladder than he was. Clara decided it was best to be discreet.

She sat down and pulled the plastic cover off her tray. Her meal consisted of two triangles of sandwich with some kind of mayonnaise at the edges, grapes, wholemeal bread, margarine, cream cheese, a salad, a herb tea and an Aroxen juice with added vitamins. Before she picked up a sandwich, she took her prescribed pills with a sip of mineral water. Gerardo was busy devouring a slice of pizza.

They started to chat. He praised her quiescence, and asked who her teachers had been. She told him about Cuinet and Klaus Wedekind, and of the week she had spent in Florence working as a sketch for Ferrucioli. She could only eat very slowly, nibbling small pieces of sandwich, because the oil paint on her face pulled at her jaws, and she did not want to spoil it. As she was spreading a thick layer of margarine on the bread, she tried out a smile with her freshly drawn lips. 'Don't be mean. Tell me what you're doing with me.' 'Painting you,' replied Gerardo. She stifled a laugh, but insisted.

'No, seriously. I'm going to be one of the works in the "Rembrandt" collection, aren't I?' 'I'm sorry, sweetheart, I can't tell you.'

‘I don't want to know which figure I am, or the title of the painting. Just tell me if I'm going to be a "Rembrandt". '

'Listen, the less you know about what you're doing, the better, right?' 'OK. Sorry'

Suddenly she felt embarrassed at having insisted. She did not want Gerardo to get the impression she thought he was more malleable than Uhl, easier to get artistic secrets out of.

They fell silent. Gerardo was playing with the top of a bottle of Coca-Cola he was drinking. He seemed out of sorts. 'Did my question upset you?' she asked concernedly.

His reply cost him a great effort, as though it was a difficult but unavoidable question.

'No. It's just that I'm a bit annoyed… not with you though, with Justus. The same old thing. I told you he has a very special character. I know him well by now of course, but sometimes I find it hard to take…' 'How long have you worked together?'

Three years. He's a good painter – I've learnt a lot from him.' He looked towards the bright midday of the window. In profile, his face still seemed very attractive to Clara. 'But we have to do everything he says. Everything.'

He turned to look at her, as if those last words concerned her much more than him. 'He's in charge,' he added. 'He's your boss.' 'And yours, don't forget.'

Clara nodded, rather disconcerted. She did not know quite how to interpret what he had just said. Was it a warning? A piece of advice? She recalled the strange examination Uhl had given her the day before. When Gerardo said she had to do everything Uhl ordered, was he only talking about painting?

She finished the slice of wholemeal bread and picked up a grape in her shiny pink fingers. Seeing the curtains at the kitchen window, she remembered what had happened the night before. To change topics, she decided to mention it. 'Listen, there's something that…'

She stopped, and pushed the pips out of the grape. Gerardo stared inquisitively at her. 'Yes?' 'Oh, it's nothing really.' That doesn't matter, tell me anyway.'

He leaned towards her, elbows on the table. He seemed genuinely interested. Clara was touched by his apparent concern, and decided to tell him everything.

Tast night there was someone prowling outside the house.

Once when the timer went off I saw him looking in through the window. Then he vanished.'

Gerardo was staring at her. 'Don't tease.'

'I'm serious. It scared me to death. I went to the window and couldn't see anyone, but I'm sure I didn't dream it.'

That's strange…' Gerardo stroked his moustache and chin in a way Clara had already noticed. 'There are no other people round here, only farms the Foundation owns.' 'But I'm sure I heard footsteps close to the window.' 'And you went over but didn't see anyone?' 'Aha.'

The young painter looked thoughtful. He pushed around some pizza crumbs. Under the shirtsleeve at the top of his left biceps, she caught sight of a tattoo.

'Maybe it was someone from Security. They sometimes patrol the farms to make sure the canvases are all right… Yes, I'm sure it was someone from Security.' 'Are there canvases in the other farms then?' ‘You bet, sweetheart. We're full. Lots of canvases, lots of work.'

The thought that it might have been someone from Security reassured her, and did not seem at all unlikely. She was about to ask more when a shadow appeared between the light and them. Uhl had come into the kitchen. Clara realised something was wrong almost before she saw him. The painter was staring at her, face twisted with disgust, and muttering in unintelligible Dutch. 'What's he saying?' she asked.

Before Gerardo had the chance to reply, Uhl did something extraordinary. He took hold of the lapels of Clara's robe and tugged at them with all his might. His movement was so violent and unexpected that he pulled her to her feet, and she knocked the chair over. Uhl grabbed the robe belt and untied it. Clara's quivering breasts were exposed. 'Hey, what are you doing?' shouted Clara.

Gerardo had also stood up, and appeared to be arguing with Uhl. But it was obvious that the older man was winning. Stunned rather than angry, Clara closed the robe over her body. She could see that some of the paint on her stomach was smudged.

'No, no. Take it off,' Gerardo snapped. Take the robe off?'

'Yes, take it off. You're not supposed to be wearing anything, OK? The colours are very sensitive and could be damaged. I should have told you before. Justus is right. I…'

Uhl interrupted him, slapping the wall impatiently right next to Clara's head, as though to hurry her up.

'What's the matter?' she said indignantly. 'What kind of behaviour is this? I'm taking it off, dammit! See?'

Uhl snatched the robe from her and stormed out of the kitchen. Clara was fuming.

'What's his problem?' she asked.

'Go on eating and don't say a word. He has his ways, that's all.'

For a moment she caught Gerardo's gaze, and through her emerald-green corneas defied him to repeat that absurd phrase. 'He has his ways.' She did not know what most irritated her: Uhl's crazy behaviour or his assistant's submissive attitude. Then she decided to give in, reasoning that in any case she was only the canvas. She bent down, snatched up the chair and sat her sticky wet buttocks on the edge of the seat. She unscrewed the top of her Aroxen drink. Nothing has happened, she told herself. If the paint gets spoilt, that's their fault.

Gerardo did not say anything more. He finished his meal, and they went back to work.

The sun had moved round the window, so they lit the sidelight and tested the shadows and effects in silhouette. Clara was still stunned. Her initial disgust had given way to a sense of astonishment at Uhl's weird attitude. She seriously wondered whether he was ill. Neither of the painters said a word to her. It seemed obvious that the incident had affected the play of forces in their unstable triangle: Uhl was still hard as flint, while Gerardo had apparently taken on the role of shock absorber between the two of them. Although he did not speak, every time he came close to change her position he tried to smile, as if saying: Just be patient. If we're on the same side, it'll be better. But this newly discovered sympathy was even more unbearable than Uhl's ridiculous conduct.