Zach

I was not used to people. All around the gallery, police and investigators searched and tried to find sense in the events of last night. But who knew how long it would take to capture the person who did this. In a normal person’s life, officers are there to protect and keep the peace. As I surveyed the exhibition hall, I knew that it would be a long time before peace would come.

I had just gotten off the phone with Lt Gray’s partner. My heart tightened as I remembered our conversation. The police had informed him of the tragic news last night. I had only owned Tempo for a month, but I already knew who Jack was. The man had been warm and had a million stories about the history of the museum. The sorrow I felt at his loss was only a drop in the bucket to what his friends and family felt today.

After talking with the officer on the floor, I headed downstairs to the entrance of the art gallery. I was used to taking my time and tended to meander through the gallery, but today, I couldn’t afford the luxury. Even if I had, I felt that all of the paintings would scream a message of blame and sadness. Regardless of who killed him, I felt responsible for Lt Gray’s death.

“Zach!”  I looked over to the front entrance of the gallery. The architects had designed it to be visible from the stairs. With the massive windows and skylights, it was well suited to growing exotic plants. Like a greenhouse, even in the winter, it was always a bit warm. Of course, you could also say that it wasn’t all that great for preserving art. Everything in the space save the people was a variation of white marble and green plants. The man calling for me met me by the information desk.

Joe Hopkins and I met when we were both 14. My parents had enrolled me in public middle school to try and prove a point. Something about how I would regret not following their orders. My parents were the kind of people who would lick the boots of anyone that helped them make more money. When I realized that their values were psychotic, I told them that they could go screw themselves. They didn’t like that. They decided that the solution was to send me to the middle of nowhere to go to a school.

Honestly, it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. The house they purchased was run by a nice husband and wife couple. My parents had them watch me as my guardians and sent just enough to keep up appearances. It wasn’t long before they realized that not having a headstrong problem child around was better for them and their lifestyle. I stayed there through high school and never moved back.

When I graduated, I left to become a musician. Securing a spot in the boy band Infinite Chaos, I went on to become the kind of rich and famous my parents could only dream of. That’s when they tried to come back into my life, but after years of neglect I made sure they never came within a hundred yards of me. Imagine my surprise when they passed away and I was still in the will. That is how I became the new owner of Tempo Art Gallery

Joe was the one guy I from back then that I still kept in touch with. He had gone on to become a police officer and eventually started an investigation firm. Back when I was putting out music albums, I had a few stalkers, and he helped me out on those cases. He was also discreet. I trusted him to have my back but to also tell me when I was out of line.

“I need to show you something.” Joe gestured his head over to the museum café. With so many people here, it was the only place that might be private enough to have a conversation. Even my office had been taken over by investigators. Joe couldn’t hide the worry on his face.

“You sound concerned.” We moved over to a set of tables in the art gallery coffee bar. Sitting down, the gallery entrance was hidden behind a wall of plants providing a cozy nook for the two of us to talk.

“Remember when I said some of your paintings were being vandalized?” I nodded. “I think that the person who did this last night may be the same.”

“There is no way you could know that. We don’t have any evidence.” Joe pulled out a tablet from his bag.

“We didn’t have evidence. But someone just sent you something.”

Joe touched the screen to pulled up a video. Handing it over to me, I stared at the screen. It looked almost like the trailer to a new movie coming out. It started out in a marble hallway. The video flipped to someone walking down the corridor, the pound of steps getting louder. At the end of the hall was the self-portrait I had sold at a charity auction three months ago.

The camera zoomed to a mask covering a person wearing a paint spackled hoodie. He threw three ballons filled with something at the painting. Whatever was in them dissolved the paint almost on contact. The colors dripped down the screen. In the last image, the camera panned to the space under the painting. It was obviously photoshopped, but the dripping paint spelled out the word “Fake” in red letters.

“It could be a coincidence.”

“This isn’t the only one. When we looked back as some of the other events, we realized that there were several more coincidences.” Joe took the tablet back and put it back in his bag. “It is up to you, but if this is the same guy, it is an obvious escalation.” He pulled an envelope out of a side pocket and handed it to me. I pulled out a few photos and flipped through them.

“These are some of the paintings I created that have been sold for charity in the past few years.” Joe nodded.

“The thing that is the most concerning is how much of these events seem to either be directed to you or something you have accomplished in the past few years.” I stared hard at the images until they began to blur. I handed the photos back to Joe before I could ball them up into the trash I felt they were.

‘Let’s let investigators know.”