True Colors

By Rose & Elise

Mickela turned over for the fourth time. She wasn’t ready to get up yet. But she was restless. Her mind kept telling her to tell the rest of her body it was time to get up. She didn't want to get up, though. She was too comfortable where she was, lying in bed next to Egan. Mickela turned over once more and looked at him. Still sleeping. His hair mussed. She had the desire to kiss him, but she didn't want to wake him this early.

She crawled slowly out of bed. Slipped on a robe and went into the kitchen. Fifteen minutes later, the scent of fresh coffee filled the air. Mickela was sitting at the table. The sun was coming up, but she was missing it. Her thoughts were focused on the case files laid out in front of her and the cup of coffee beside her.

She watched the clock anxiously. At seven o'clock, she could call the Greenstone gallery for information on the painting.

Egan rolled over and felt something missing. Opening his eyes he saw that something was Mickela. Looking out he saw the sun rise and shook his head, he had slept in a bit this morning. Then the coffee hit his nose.

Stretching and pulling off the covers he padded though to the kitchen and saw her sitting, sipping and searching through a file. This was only the second night Egan had ever been in the same bed all night with a woman. He had thought waking up to her lovely visage was wonderful. Then yesterday evening they rode out to the stream and watched the wild horses. He had wondered what she wanted, if she wanted to go back to the city.

Shaking his head deciding there would be time for those thoughts later. Right now he wanted to be with her. Walking up behind her he slipped his arms around kissing her cheek. "G'day, love."

She glanced up at him with a smile and kissed his cheek in return. "Good morning. I made coffee."

Egan nods as he tightens his arms for a moment before getting a cup. "What's got you up with the birds love?

Mickela read over the name Angela Hudson. Something about the name was connected to the case. She wasn't sure how yet. "I'm waiting for the Greenstone to open."

Egan sat down next to her caressing down his hand down her arm. "Are any of the pieces of your puzzle fitting yet?"

She took a long sip of her coffee and thought for a moment. "I know there are a couple of pieces missing. I'm sure the pieces Miss Hennessey gave me are the wrong ones." Mickela glanced up at the clock. She was relieved to see it was Ten past seven. She felt the solution to the case was right in front of her and it made her eager to solve it. She pulled out her cell phone and called the gallery. "Good morning, this is Detective Powell, may I speak to Mr. Monroe, please?..." She listened while she was put on hold and transferred. "Good morning, Mr. Monroe...Yes...Alright, I'll be there in an hour. Thank you." 

Egan listens as she talks to the bloke on the other end. When she hangs up he looks at her. "Are those the answers you were looking for?"

Mickela looked up at him with a grin and nodded. "Getting close to it. He said the painting is not the original. But it isn't exactly a forgery either. It’s a reproduction."

Returning her grin with a soft smile Egan smoothed her hair. He wasn't a touchy feely kind of guy but with her it all seemed to change. He wanted to touch her. Be near her, hold her, talk to her, but soon she would be gone. Leaving again for New York. But her beauty when she smiled was all the vision he needed to get though the day. "So what happened to the painting? It was never stolen?"

She sat back in the chair and sighed as she leaned into Egan's touch. "That opens up another unanswered question. The original painting was acquired by the Augustine Gallery from an auction in London. It had once been privately owned."

Mickela reached for Egan's hand and began massaging his fingers. She wanted to finish the case but she also knew that as soon as she did, she'd be on a plane for New York. "The painting arrived at the Augustine but was suspected of being a forgery. But it disappeared from the gallery before it could be authenticated. There's no way to know if the painting that was taken from the Augustine was the original...or if it's the reproduction that found its way here. If it was the reproduction, then there's still the question of where the original is."

He sighed softly as she massaged his hand. Egan had the feeling she would be on a plane soon. "Will you have to find the original now?" Maybe that would keep her in Oz longer.

She nodded. "Yes, I have to find it. I'll start with the auction house in London. I need to trace back the painting to the last place it was known to be."

Nodding he leaned over and kissed her. London; even that seemed so far away. He'd hoped to keep her here with him. "You're going back to the gallery now then? Why don't I meet you for lunch?" Egan gives her a warm smile missing her already.

She leaned over to kiss him again. A kiss that made her want to take the day off and instead spend it with him. "I'd like that. I'm going to the Greenstone first then I'll be at the Crowe Gallery to speak to the curator again. You could meet me there and we'll go to Millie's."

He could taste her lip gloss on his lips and her scent still lingered in the air around him as he nodded and smiled. "I can meet you at the center. I've got to pick up some supplies in that area." He usually grumbled about going out into town. Egan looked forward to it today, even sitting in a crowded restaurant. He slides his hand under her hair pulling her to him for another lingering kiss. "We'd better start our days then eh love. I'm sure the horses are wonderin’ where their feed is."

She smiled softly and nodded. Mickela picked up her things and walked out to her car. As she was driving to Coff's Harbour, she wondered exactly what she was doing. How could she start a relationship with someone who lived in Australia? How would that even work?

Mickela tried not to dwell on it. They were both adults. It could just be a casual relationship until she went back to New York. Couldn't it?

Realizing she'd been too distracted to eat breakfast, she stopped at a small cafe in Coff's then went to the Greenstone. After meeting with Mr. Monroe and looking at the painting, Mickela's eagerness to speak to Miss Hennessey was ignited.

Abby made another lap around the gallery floor. There were several visitors today. And the classes that had started today seemed to have a good turnout. She smiled and talked to a few patrons who welcomed her and Alex to The Glen. But she kept waiting for the detective from New York to come back. They had taken the painting last night her initials and all. Standing before a piece depicting the harbor Abby took a breath. "Calm down Abby, she's not going to arrest you. Maybe. Hopefully."

Mickela approached the reception desk. "Good morning. I'd like to speak to the curator, please."

The girl smiles and nods. "Sure, Miss Hennessey is on the floor today." The girl picks up her phone and calls for her.

Taking deep breath Abby walks to the front with a soft smile. "Good Morning Detective. Would you like to speak in my office?"

She nodded. "Yes, I think that would be more appropriate."

Abby nodded and motioned for her to follow she tried to have her panic attack quietly along the way. When they were in the office she smiled. "Would you like coffee or anything?"

Mickela shook her head gently. "No, thank you. I just came from the Greenstone gallery. Mr. Monroe had some interesting things to say about the painting."

Abby sat and picked up a rubber band and began to toy with it as they talked. "Interesting things? What did Mr. Monroe say?"

"I'm certain you know by now, Miss Hennessey, that the painting is not the original. That is why it was removed from your gallery last night and taken to Coff's."

She nods twirling the rubber band round a finger then stretching it. "Yes, I'm aware the print is a copy." Abby's mind raced she wasn't sure what to do, how much to tell her.

Mickela glanced at the rubber band being nervously manipulated in Miss Hennessey's fingers. That one little habit was a very telling one. "The initials 'A.H.' were found hidden within the painting." The letters could belong to any number of forgers with those initials. Angela Hudson...or maybe Abagail Hennessey.

"Miss Hennessey, have you ever been commissioned to do reproductions?"

The rubber band in her hand tightens. "Reproductions, no." Not Abagail Hennessey anyways. So it's only half a lie right?

Mickela watched the rubber band tighten with Miss Hennessey's answer. The indication was similar to that of a polygraph. Most people had no clue how much information their body movements give away. "Miss Hennessey, tell me why you are so familiar with Miami."

She started to make a small cat's cradle. "I have a degree from the University of Miami. I lived there for a while."

"And have you ever worked for or with the campus art gallery?"

She shakes her head afraid to say ‘no’ anymore. Karma will get you eventually maybe this is hers.

Mickela nodded slightly. She knew there was something under the surface of Miss Hennessy's answers. Now if she could just uncover it. "Upon inspection of the reproduction, three sets of fingerprints were found. One belonging to Edward Bower, one to a previous owner, and one identified as belonging to Angela Hudson." She studied her for a moment as she continued. "Miss Hennessy, I'm curious to know why your prints were not found on the painting. You were the most recent person to touch it without gloved hands."

Abby pulled the rubber band. "Surely they are? You saw me touching the piece."

Mickela nodded. "Yes, that is why I made mention of it. I would like a set of your prints for comparison. Unless of course you have an objection to cooperating. In which case, I'll speak to the local Sheriff again and file for your extradition back to New York for further questioning and to obtain your prints."

Pulling the rubber band tight it Abby felt her heart stop. "New York?" The band in her fingers snapped and went flying by the detectives head.

Mickela glanced briefly at the rubber band as it sailed past her shoulder. She looked back at Miss Hennessey. "Nervous about something?" She stepped closer to the desk and leaned down a bit. Her voice lowered and firm. "Miss Hennessey, I know you aren't telling me the complete truth. You could make this much easier simply by being forthcoming...and truthful. You can do that now...or in an interrogation room in New York. Which shall it be?"

Abby sighed starting to pick up another rubber band then thought better of that action. She looked up at the detective. "You have to understand my life is in jeopardy. If they find me."

Standing she paces a moment then stops and looks at the detective trying to discern how sympathetic she'll be to Abby's story. "I am Angela Hudson."

Mickela nodded. "And you've been doing reproductions and passing them off as forgeries."

Abby shook her head quickly. "No, oh god no!"

She stops and takes a deep breath trying not to panic. "When I was working at UM, I did some reproductions for the school. They were good. I received high accolades for them and I was approached by Donovan Laseter." Abby picked up a pen cap hoping that was a safer bet and toyed with it. "I was young and easily wooed by all the flash and fancy dinners. He hired me to do reproductions for people who wanted to vault the valuable paintings. At least that's what I was told."

Shaking her head at how gullible she had been Abby sighed deeply. "I found that some of my paintings were being switched with the real ones. Thinking my boss innocent, that he would never stand for such a thing, I went to him with my findings. Mr. Laseter took me to his home and placed me under constant guard. I was threatened, those I loved threatened. So I did what he said to do."

"I swear to you I haven't seen that painting in a good eight years at least and I've only been Abagail Hennessey for five of those. When that studio burnt down I thought I was free." She wipes her eyes quickly trying to calm some. "I've never tried to pass off my work as anything other than what it is."

Mickela jotted down a couple of notes and looked up at Abby. "You said your loved ones were threatened, then after adopting the name Abagail Hennessey you hid out from both Laseter and your family?"

Sitting back down, she nodded. "Yes, to everyone down there Angela Hudson is dead. If I had gone back Laseter would have known because they didn't morn their daughter’s death. My parents couldn't hide anything if they tried."

You did the reproduction of Ira's mask; had you ever been in contact with the original?"

Abby turned the cap in her fingers. "No, I did the reproduction from full color prints."

Mickela sighed softly as she thought. It would seem as though she’d both opened up new information but also hit a dead end with Miss Hennessey.

"Detective, I never applied for this job. It was offered to me by the curator of the Augustine, this is his signature on all the paintings paperwork." Abby hands her the file of the documents. "I think I'm being set up."

Mickela glanced through the documents. Everything was beginning to make sense. She was thankful for that. She could go back to New York and tie up the loose ends. Unfortunately, Mickela would have to tell Egan that she had to go back to New York.

She looked at her watch then up at Abby. "Thank you for your time, Miss Hennessey. I have to be going. I have another appointment." She offered her hand. "I'll contact you if I have any more questions."

Abby nodded. "I'm sorry I haven't been forthcoming, Detective. I hope you understand my reluctance in the beginning."

Mickela nodded briefly. She'd recently almost been killed because of the damned paintings. She wasn't in any mood for excuses for actions that had only added to her frustration in solving the case. Mickela left Miss Hennessey's office then walked through the gallery. Her mood lifted when she saw Egan looking over a painting while he was waiting for her.

Alex walked through the gallery. His focus went to the pretty brunette who'd just walked past him from the direction of Abby's office. The woman must be the detective, he thought. The Glen was a quaint town. Not too many people he saw were wearing business suits.

He worried for Abby. He wondered what the detective was doing at the gallery. What she had said to Abby. But at least she wasn't leading Abby out in cuffs. He approached her door and knocked gently.

Abby had given into her nerves when the detective left. Feeling relieved and still a bit frightened of what was next she had indulged in a bit of emotion. Hearing the knock she pulled a tissue and wiped her face. "Come in."

Seeing Abby upset bothered him. Alex walked over to her and knelt down next to her chair. He slipped his arm around her, took the tissue from her and continued to wipe her face. He pressed a comforting kiss to her cheek as he held her hand. "Come on, honey. Let's go get some fresh air."