Free AHMM, December 2009 by Dell Magazine Authors Page A

Come."
    Worley rose and led us back into the gallery. A few patrons were now strolling about, and Piker was keeping an eye on them. We paused before a small, empty alcove and Worley gestured theatrically. “Behold ... nothing."
    "Why haven't you hung another painting here?” I asked. “It's been two weeks, hasn't it?"
    "I've been waiting on the artist, Noll, to provide a new work. A quirky individual, indeed. Unfortunately for me, he seems to be at some sort of creative impasse."
    "You paid a pretty penny for that canvas,” Mr. O'Nelligan said. “Does its loss not distress you?"
    Worley offered one of his impeccable smiles. “You must understand, gentlemen, that my personal economy rests on no single painting—in fact, on no single enterprise. This gallery is only one of my many investments."
    Mr. O'Nelligan smiled back. “Ah, yes. Many irons in the fire."
    "Many,” Worley concurred, his lips upturned just right.
    I interrupted this battle of ingenuous grins. “You obviously enjoy the finer things in life, Mr. Worley."
    "Guilty as charged. But I do seek out the occasional plebian entertainment. For example, I have tickets for today's World Series game. You're lucky to have caught me when you did."
    "You're a Yankees fan?"
    "Why not? I like Mickey Mantle. I respect winners."
    "Who'll be accompanying you?"
    "How is that even remotely your business?"
    "Just a friendly inquiry,” I said.
    "It's a beautiful woman,” he responded. “I just haven't chosen which one yet."
    I let that pass and shifted gears. “We were told that the gallery was protected by an electronic alarm system."
    "Was and is. A very modern one, in fact. But some unknown rogue apparently breached it. Unless...” Worley gave a little shrug.
    "Unless what?” I asked.
    "Well, it's indelicate to malign the dead, but only two people were in possession of the keys here and knew how to deactivate the alarms. I was one."
    I saw where this was going. “And the other was Giuseppe Zampino."
    Worley bowed slightly. “Why, you are detectives, aren't you?"
    I very much wanted to cram his sarcasm right down that smooth gullet of his, but I wasn't the cramming kind.
    Mr. O'Nelligan returned to the joust. “Yes, logic is our passion. But, tell us, sir, if Mr. Zampino had taken the painting, why then would he have succumbed to a heart attack the morning after the theft? There would have been no moment of shock to precipitate such a reaction."
    "You want me to lay this all out for you?” Worley allowed himself to look put out. “Very well then, I'll play. Let's assume that the Italian had indeed stolen the painting. I surmise that when he returned to the scene of the crime, the magnitude of his deed overtook him and his vulnerable heart gave out. He was, after all, a man of advanced years. Older, perhaps, than even this gentleman.” He nodded toward my comrade.
    Mr. O'Nelligan nimbly sidestepped the thrust. “I'm inclined to think of my own heart not as vulnerable, but venerable. "
    I wasn't sure whether to groan or yell touché. I said, “Have you passed your theory on to the police?"
    "My theory? I was simply speculating here for your benefit.” Worley adjusted his elegant tie. “Besides, I try to stay above the fray. My insurance has compensated me. I prefer to just move on."
    "Remarkably philosophical of you,” Mr. O'Nelligan said. “It's interesting that only Mr. Noll's work was taken. Do you consider it to be of the highest caliber?"
    Worley laughed with finesse. “Good lord, no. His work is a confusion. But there's something to it that I felt I could pass off as genius. The world is always hungry for genius, and, my friends, I'm more than willing to reap the benefits of that hunger."
    The other visitors had exited the gallery, and Piker came over to stand beside his boss and scowl at us. “Everything swell here, Mr. Worley?"
    "You could say that.” The perfect man favored us with a parting smile. “I think that's all I have to offer, gentlemen.