Stuart Woods - Fresh Disasters

Detective Willa Bernstein parked her Camaro Z80 across from the Art Scene Gallery. Detective Shelly Pointer, who was in the passenger seat, leaned forward and looked into the gallery. “You think Daltry is in there?”

“A magazine interview I dug up on the Internet said that he loves other artists’ openings, and he goes to all the big ones. This one-a painter named Jason Griggs-is tonight’s big one. Why don’t we go and find out?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t go in together,” a voice in Willa’s ear said.

“Thanks, we figured that out,” she replied. All five detectives could hear her and talk to her on the new equipment. “Shelly’s going in first to case; I’ll wait to hear from her.” She nodded at Shelly, who got out of the car, crossed the street and went into the gallery.

Willa took deep breaths to calm herself. Two minutes later, Shelly spoke into her ear. “Bingo,” she said.

“On my way.” Willa got out of the car and crossed the street. She could see her partner’s car ahead of her, and she knew the other car was behind. She walked into the gallery, stopped and looked around. She didn’t see Daltry, so she walked to the bar, where a lot of glasses of wine were arrayed, and picked up some white. Then she saw Daltry, standing in a group near a huge painting. She sidled over and stood, staring at the big oil, but nothing happened. From the corner of her eye she could see Daltry still talking with the group.

Willa walked around the knot of people gathered around Daltry and stopped before the next painting, careful not to look at him. She took a sip of the wine and winced.

“Was that expression for the wine or the painting?” a voice asked.

She turned a little to her right and found Daltry at her elbow; he came up to about her collarbone. “Both,” she said. “The painting is not so hot, and the wine is even worse.”

“Jason has never deserved his reputation, and the wine, well, my guess is it’s made in a basement somewhere in Queens.”

Willa laughed. “The painting could have been made there, too.”

This time Daltry laughed. “Have you seen the rest of the show?”

“No, I just got here.”

“Let’s take a quick walk through,” Daltry said. “By the way, I’m Devlin Daltry. Who are you?”

“I’m Willa Bernstein. Are you the sculptor?”

“Yes.”

“I saw your show at the Modern last year.” She hadn’t, but she’d found that on the Internet, too. “I thought it was brilliant.”

“Thank you. I wish you were an art critic.” He walked her slowly around the room, not stopping.

“Well, that’s that,” Willa said. “No reason to spend another minute here.”

“Would you like to go somewhere else?”

She nodded. “Somewhere where they have Scotch, instead of this wine, and food, instead of cardboard canapes.”

“There’s a favorite place of mine just down the street,” Daltry said. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she said, taking his arm.

They walked past Shelly on the way out. The moment they hit the sidewalk, she heard her partner, Bernstein, say into her ear, “Good girl.”

“You a fast worker, bitch,” Shelly said, in a bit of self-caricature.

Willa laughed out loud, in spite of herself.

“What’s so funny?” Daltry asked.

“I was just thinking,” Willa replied. “Isn’t it strange how a semitalented painter like Jason Griggs can get rich, selling poor work?”

“And a semitalented sculptor like me, as well?”

“You are extremely talented, and your work has substance and beauty.” She smiled slyly at him. “But I don’t need to tell you that, do I?”

This time they both burst out laughing.

“You got him hooked, baby,” Shelly said into her ear. “Now all you got to do is reel him in.”

The couple walked on toward the restaurant.

Stone and Dino had just tucked into their pasta when Dino’s cell phone rang. Dino flipped it open.

“Bacchetti.”

“It’s Bernstein, Lieutenant,” a deep male voice said.

“Yeah? Which one?”

“The one with the balls.”

“Willa? Is that you?”

“Very funny, Lieutenant.”

“I thought so. What’s happening?”

“It’s going like a dream. I tell you, this girl is good .”

“Details, please.”

“Well, first of all, she did some research on the Internet and nailed where he would be tonight, at a gallery opening. Then she waltzed in there, and inside of five minutes, he’s walking her around the gallery, disparaging the artwork. Now they’re in a restaurant down the street, and she’s in the process of wrapping him around her little finger.”

“Good girl!”

“She sure is.”

“You think she can handle him, then?”

“I think she could handle Osama bin Laden.”

“The equipment working okay?”

“Like a dream; we can hear everything.”

“And you’re recording?”

“Every word.”

“Okay, then, don’t hang too close to her. Give her room to work, and keep me posted.”

“Will do, Lieutenant.”

Dino hung up. “Can I pick ’em, or what? She’s already having dinner with Daltry.”

“Wow.”

“Wow, exactly,” Dino said, but he was looking toward the door.

Stone followed his gaze to see two women who had just walked in. One of them was a tall, very beautiful woman in, maybe, her early thirties; the other was Eliza Larkin, M.D. Stone stood up and waved them over.

Eliza gave him a kiss. “Stone, Dino, this is my friend Genevieve James.”

Everybody shook hands, and Stone seated them. Dino, he noticed, seemed stunned by Genevieve.

“I’m sorry,” Eliza said, “We just wandered in for a drink. I know you and I are not supposed to meet while this thing with Daltry is going on.”

“The snake,” Genevieve said.

“It’s okay, Eliza,” Stone said. “As it happens, I know exactly where he is at this moment, and he won’t be a concern. I am very glad to see you.”

Dino leaned toward Genevieve. “And I’m very glad to see you.”

“You’re cute,” she said, as a cosmopolitan was set before her. They clinked glasses. “How tall are you?” she asked.

“Not as tall as I look,” Dino said.

She laughed. “You’re not intimidated; that’s good.”

“I am not intimidated.”

“So many men are. I mean, I’m only six feet; I’ve known lots of women taller.”

“So have I,” Dino said. “I’m very pleased to hear that you have a low opinion of Devlin Daltry.”

“I certainly do,” she said. “He made my life hell for weeks last fall.”

“I’ll personally see to it that he never does that again,” Dino said.

“Oh, I don’t want you to get involved with him; he can be dangerous.”

Dino flashed his badge. “Allow me to introduce myself; it’s Lieutenant Dino.”

“Oh, good, then you can shoot him.”

“Only if I get the chance.”

“Dino has Daltry under surveillance as we speak,” Stone said.

“I hope you catch him doing something criminal,” Genevieve said.

“I hope so, too,” Dino said. “I’ve already charged him with something minor; now I’m hoping for something major.”

Willa Bernstein sat at the bar with Devlin Daltry, sipping single-malt Scotch. “ Mmmm, this is a lot better than that Queens wine at the gallery.”

“Certainly is. Willa seems an odd name for a Jewish girl.”

“My mother was reading Willa Cather- Death Comes for the Archbishop -when I was born, and I’m not Jewish. My father is, but Jewish identity is passed down through the female line, and my mother is Episcopalian. So am I.”