she could call the cops if she wanted to have food to eat. Cops meant she would lose her job; she had no doubt about it, and cops meant that possibly her mother would be arrested. No matter how much her mother annoyed her, she couldn’t be the one responsible for getting her tossed in jail.
Sean frowned. “Don’t you care that some insane person is running around defacing art? This is a crime, you know. Besides, I’m sure the gallery has security cameras. They’re going to know what happened.”
She winced, reaching out to see if she could scratch the paint off the glass. “There are no security cameras. Not inside, anyway. Just one outside by the front entrance, so all they’ll see is a person entering the gallery, but they won’t see anything happening. And in theory, yes, I am concerned about a criminal defacing art. But I don’t want the exhibit ruined because of this. It’s a charity event. We don’t know the person is dangerous.”
For a second, Sean didn’t answer. Then he gave her a long look. “What is really going on? Do you know who did this?”
“Why would you ask that?” she stalled.
“Because you look like you have a secret. You have never had a poker face. You’d lose your shirt in a card game, not that I would complain about that.”
Kristine bit her lip. “I think my mother did this.”
“What?” He clearly hadn’t expected her to say that. “What the hell does your mother have to do with any of this?”
Her heart rate increased to a fast gallop and her palms started to sweat. She rubbed her thumb more aggressively over the spray paint, unable to look at Sean. “She finds Ian’s photography offensive. She was making noise earlier on the phone with me about putting a stop to the exhibit.”
“Oh, God.”
Exactly.
“So apparently your mother hasn’t changed much in ten years then.”
She dared to glance at him from under her lashes. “See why I don’t want to call the cops? If it was her, I just need to make it right. Right?” During her and Sean’s brief marriage, Sean and her mother had not gotten along at all, and Kristine had a feeling his sympathy was going to be limited, at best.
But even before he could respond, she felt guilty about her moral ambiguity. “Darn it. You’re right. We should call the cops anyway. But my boss is going to kill me. I’m going to get fired if my mother did this.”
Sean shook a piece of paper. “There was a note tucked into one of the photographs. This doesn’t sound like your mother to me.”
That was good. Even at the same time it was bad. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” He cleared his throat and read the note to her. “‘Catch me if you can.’ It’s signed anonymous.”
“Not the morality committee?” Maybe it wasn’t her mother after all.
“No.”
Kristine decided to test the theory. “I’m texting Ebbe. If she did it, she’ll admit it.”
Taking a roundabout approach, she asked her mother what she was doing.
Yoga, why?
Have you been uptown this afternoon?
No.
This was puzzling. She looked at Sean. “Okay, so I don’t think she actually did it. Is it really possible that someone else despises Ian’s photography, as well?”
“What does your mother dislike about it?”
“She says it’s an exploitation of women.
“But it’s male and female models and none of them are in sexual poses. I don’t get it.” He sounded puzzled, studying the note again.
“I have spent twenty-nine years trying to ‘get’ my mother and it hasn’t happened yet. I doubt it ever will.” If she sounded slightly frustrated and a whole lot panicked, well, she was. “My mother reinvents herself every two years or so and lucky me, this year she decided everyone should be wearing sweaters in art.”
“I knew your mother was, you know, passionate, but babe, this is illegal so I seriously hope she’s not responsible. Do you think she’ll show up Friday?”
She hoped and prayed she would
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