Not that he probably comes close to feeling the same about me. I'm just the pesky doctor who keeps showing up when I think he needs a friend, even if he wishes I wouldn't.
"Does it bother you that I keep pestering you?" Zack asked, putting his thoughts into words.
Trev looked at him in surprise. "You're not doing that. Or at least I don't see it that way. I like it when you're around. You make me feel safe and…and cared for?"
"Good. I just wanted to be certain. I feel like I've been pushing myself into your life."
"Have you heard me complaining?" Trev chuckled. "Excluding when you first tracked me down at the coffee shop, that is."
"No." Zack put fresh dressing on Trev's shoulder, telling him everything looked good. He started to stand, only to have Trev take his hand.
"I meant it. I like you being here. I like that you seem to want to be, if that makes sense."
"It does, and I do. I find you…"
"Umm?" Trev said, when Zack didn't continue.
"I don't think of myself as your doctor any more. Of course, I'm not when it comes right down to it but…I like you."
"As a friend."
"Yes. That's the problem. I know it's way too soon. Not to be friends but…"
Trev stared at him, a small smile playing over his lips. "Are you trying to proposition me, Doctor Kendall?"
"No. Yes. Maybe? In only a few days I seem to have become quite captivated by you. Maybe it's just my protective instincts kicking in, but I don't think so. I like being around you."
"I like that you do," Trev said so softly that Zack almost didn't hear him. Then he looked at Zack, stating firmly, "And not as a protector, just so you understand that. I've got those hanging around outside the building."
Zack nodded. "So, after all this…catching the bad guys"—he chuckled—"so to speak, is over, if I asked you out, you'd say yes?"
"You bet."
"Great. I'm holding you to that. For now, though, I have to leave. We both need sleep."
"Especially you. Tired doctors are not the best thing in the world."
Zach grinned. "I've gone through my internship and survived twenty-four hour shifts. I think I can make it through tomorrow on six hours' sleep, easy."
"I bet you can. Will you call me when Quint has everything set up?"
"Of course." As he got up, Zack ruffled Trev's hair. "I'll see you…tomorrow?"
"The way things are going, I'd be surprised if you didn't. Now get."
"Going. Don't forget to lock the door and—"
"Yeah, yeah," Trev muttered, standing. "And set the security. I will. I don't have a death wish." He shivered a bit. "Not at all."
"You'll be fine. Your protectors will make sure of it."
"I know."
"Tomorrow then." Zack unlocked the deadbolt and stepped into the hallway.
"Tomorrow."
Zack waited until he heard Trev lock the door before going down to the elevator.
I wonder… Will he really be willing to go out with me when all this is over? I think I hope so. No, I know I do. Then…I guess time will tell.
CHAPTER FIVE
Quint looked up when Clay walked into the squad room. "Well, this is a surprise."
Clay smiled, taking the visitor's chair next to Quint's desk. "I figured I'd tell you in person. Miller was all for the idea, as long as you guarantee that he'll get the painting back. When I told him how we planned to keep track of it, he thought it was a clever idea." He chuckled. "I think he's living out some fantasy about catching bad guys, like in the movies."
"It should be so easy. When can we pick up the painting?"
"It's in the trunk of my car. If you managed to get your hands on one of the tracking devices Zack talked about, I'll take it and the painting home to figure out the best place to put it."
"I did." Quint opened a drawer, taking out a carefully wrapped packet. "According to the doctor who gave this to me, the instructions for using it on a patient should work for the painting, as long as you're careful."
"That will be my watchword," Clay said, putting the packet in his messenger bag. "I'll do it as soon as I get home from seeing Trev's artwork." Glancing around to make certain no one was paying any attention to them, Clay dropped a swift kiss on Quint's lips. He knew everyone was aware of their relationship, but he wasn't about to flaunt it in front of the men Quint worked with.
When he was back at his car, Clay called Trev to let him know he was on his way over to pick him up. It amused him at how eager and yet unnerved Trev seemed when he said he was ready. Clay wanted to tell him, "I'm just a man, Trev. You don't need to be afraid of me." But he didn't. He had the feeling it would only make matters worse.
Trev was waiting outside his apartment building when Clay pulled up. As the young man hurried down to join him, his eyes widened, and he came to a standstill, just staring at the car.
Clay called through the open window in amusement, "We'll get there faster if you get in."
Trev did, saying in awe as he stroked the dashboard, "This is a '64 Corvette coupe. It's a classic."
"So I've been told. Often. To me it's just a damned fine car that gets me where I'm going." He put it in gear and pulled out into traffic. He could imagine Trev thinking, "Just a car? Just a car?"
The drive to the warehouse where Trev rented space was done mostly in silence, as neither man knew the other well enough to chatter, something Clay for one rarely did anyway. When they got there, Trev led the way down one of the hallways, opening the door to his small studio.
Clay smiled at the look of trepidation on Trev's face as he walked past him into the room. "I promise, I'm not going to say mean and nasty things about your work. In fact…" Clay looked around slowly, his gaze landing on one then another of the stationary kinetic sculptures and hanging mobiles. He crossed to one balanced on the tip of a thin, perpendicular tube then blew it gently. As it began to move, Clay watched with fascination. "Quite wonderful," he said in admiration. "You have a very good eye for form, function, and color."
"Thank…thank you," Trev stuttered.
Nodding, Clay began studying and touching one piece after another as he made his way around the room. He stopped at Trev's workbench, noting that he was in the process of creating a new mobile. Finally, he turned to the young man. "Unless you have some objection, I would like to invite you to show some of your work at my gallery. It wouldn't be for another three weeks, when the present show comes down."
For a moment Clay thought Trev might pass out from shock. Then he said, "Are you serious?"
"Very serious. You're not as good as Calder yet, but your work is damned impressive. Why no one's picked you up already is beyond me. They should have jumped at the chance."
"I'd be honored," Trev said, still looking somewhat dazed.
"Very good. The first thing on the agenda then is to take you over to the gallery to meet Amanda, the manager. She'll have a billion forms for you to fill out, including a contract. Then, probably later this week, you and I will decide which of these"—Clay swept one arm around—"will go into your show."
"Thank you. Thank you."
Clay chuckled. "Don't thank me until you've survived the opening of the show and having to make nice with all the patrons who attend it." Clay gave a not-so-mock shudder as he stepped out of the studio into the hallway.
"I can do that. I think," Trev replied, as he locked up and joined Clay. "Maybe I can get Zack to prescribe some tranquilizers for me."
"That might not be a bad idea…for both of us. I take it you and Zack are friends, as well as doctor and patient."
"I… Yes, we're friends, I think. I mean, he did say he wants to take me out once all this…this catching John's murderer, is over."
"Then I guess I should get you to the gallery then go home and work on Reflections One. Mr Miller was more than willing to let us use it."
"Did you have to bribe him with Quint's Element painting?" Trev asked, grinning.
"Nope. He
's quite excited about being part of ending the theft ring. As I told Quint, Miller seems to think of this as some sort of action movie extravaganza."
"Not from my point of view," Trev said, with more than a touch of anger.
"I'm sure it isn't," Clay replied sympathetically.
By then they were at the car, and fifteen minutes later, Clay had introduced Trev to Amanda, telling her what was going on. Afterward, he headed back to the loft to get to work on the painting.
*****
"Oh my God," Trev said, seconds after he answered the call from Zack later that evening.
"Is something wrong?" Zack asked, concern lacing his voice.
"You'll never guess. Not in a hundred years." Before Zack could take a stab at it, Trev told him what had happened after Clay had been to the studio.
"Whoa! Congratulations. I told you that you were good."
"I know but…"
"It's okay. I know I'm no expert. I'm proud of you, Trev. Your dream is coming true."
Trev was still too excited to stand still, so he was pacing the living room. "It is. Or at least I'm getting the chance I wanted—to see if anyone likes my work enough to buy it. Damn. Maybe now I'll be able to get a new place that isn't a hole-in-the-wall."
"Not to throw cold water on things, but have you started looking?"
Trev sighed. "No, and I only have a few more days here. If the police hadn't taken John's laptop I could look online, for starters."
"How much can you reasonably afford?" Zack asked. In the background, Trev could hear the tone that said he was turning on his computer.
"I suppose… I have a bit saved, and I'll be back to work on Monday. So, maybe five hundred?"
"Okay, hang on while I search. Oh, get a pencil and paper in case I find some places."
Trev did, praying Zack came up with something—anything.
"Okay, I found two that are doable and on bus lines." Zack read off the addresses and phone numbers. "Both places have studio apartments for four twenty-five, and it says they have vacancies."
"Yes! And I think I even know where the downtown one is. Not too far from the Broncos stadium. Right?"
"Right. How did you know that?"
"One of the girls at work lives on the same street."
Zack chuckled. "Good thing you said girl."
"Hey now." Trev grinned. He wasn't quite sure why, but it made him happy that Zack had said that. He can't be jealous. We barely know each other. Yet.
"Just teasing. Check both places out. Okay?"
"Okay, I will. Did you hear anything from Quint?"
"Yep. They're bringing the painting over in—" Trev heard the Zack's door buzzer in the background. "Like right now. I have to go. You take your pills and get to bed."
"Yes, Doctor."
Zack snorted. "Right now I am. Sleep well, if you can. I'm sure you're still hyped about Clay's offer."
"You know the pills will knock me out. You get some sleep too, once they're gone. When will you take the painting to Mr Alberts?"
"Over my lunch break, if I get one. I'll call to make an appointment as soon as they open. If I don't get a break, then with luck I can reschedule for as soon as I'm off work."
"I'm sure when you tell him what you want appraised, he'll bend over backward to accommodate you."
"Here's hoping. Okay, I'm hanging up. They're here."
Trev pushed the Off button, took the phone into the bedroom to put it on the charger. After taking his pills, he washed up then went to bed. As he'd predicted, he fell asleep almost immediately.
*****
"I'm Zack Kendall. I have an appointment to see Mr Alberts," Zack told the receptionist seated at a desk in the waiting room of the appraiser's company.
"Yes, Mr Kendall. He's expecting you." The woman stood. "If you'll follow me."
She led him down a short hallway to a door at the end, opening it for him.
A stocky, gray-haired man, sitting at a large oak desk, looked up when Zack entered. Then he got to his feet, saying, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Kendall," he said. "I presume that's the Richardson painting you want appraised." His glance went to the well-wrapped package Zack was holding.
"Yes, sir. As I told your secretary when I called this morning, I bought it about six months ago and just recently realized I've failed to get it insured. Since I know my insurance company will need a fair appraisal of its value first…" Zack held out the package containing the three by three-foot canvas.
Mr Alberts took it, going across the room to a table along one wall. Setting it down, he carefully slit the tape and removed the wrapping. Then he stood back, looking at the painting.
"I hadn't realized Mr Miller had sold this," Mr Alberts commented.
"From what he said at the time, he didn't want to, but he needed money for something to do with his business. He accepted my offer, although he said it was somewhat below the actual value of the painting." Zack rattled off the story that Mr Miller and Clay had come up with, as if it was the truth. He knew that if Mr Alberts called him, Mr Miller would confirm it. "I have the bill of sale, if you need it." Zack took a folded slip of paper from his jacket pocket, handing it to Mr Alberts.
"I would say," Mr Alberts said after reading it, "you made a killing. However, I won't be able to confirm that until we've had a chance to fully appraise the painting. That shouldn't take more than a week."
Zack nodded. "That's fine."
"Very well." Mr Alberts went back to his desk, waiting for Zack to take the other seat. He took a form from a file and filled it out, asking Zack for his home address, phone number, and ID. When he'd entered the information, plus that of the painting, he gave it to Zack to read.
"If you agree to the cost for the appraisal, and the rest of the information in the contract, please sign it." Mr Alberts handed Zack a pen.
After Zack read and signed it, and with the formalities over, Mr Alberts thanked Zack for his business and escorted him back to the waiting room.
Zack left, heading to where he'd parked his bike. So far, so good. Now we wait and see, I guess.
*****
Trev jumped to his feet when he heard the buzzer, going to check who was there before pressing the button. Two minutes later he opened the door to the apartment, smiling at Zack.
"You look glad to see me," Zack said. "Still hyper about the gallery thing?"
"Sort of. Want something to drink? Water, coffee?" Trev started toward the kitchen then spun around. "How did it go with Mr Alberts?"
"He has the painting. That's all I know. I doubt he'll move it from the building until they've made a copy. If they do. There's no guarantee they will."
"They better. I want those bastards caught and hung from the highest rafter by their dicks."
"Whoa. I agree, but how come you're suddenly out for blood? Okay, scratch that. I know it's not sudden but—"
"I guess it was coming back here after looking at those two apartments. Doing that made me think about why I have to move. Not the cost part, but…" He frowned darkly. "Things are starting to go good for me, and it wouldn't have happened if John was still alive. If I'd done something to stop them…" Trev's shoulders slumped. "I owe him some…closure, I guess, because I didn't. Stopping those men before they kill someone else will help."
"We will—us and Quint. Well, mainly Quint." Zack put an arm around Trev in a loose hug. "Now stop beating yourself up. Okay? There was nothing you could have done, and I think you know it."
"I do, but…" For a moment they stood as they were—Zack's arm around Trev. Then Trev pulled away quickly. It felt too good, being in Zack's arms. Well, arm. And it was only because he was trying to make me feel better. "Water or coffee?" he asked, going into the kitchen.
"Coffee sounds good." Zack said, following him to lean against one of the counters. "Not to change the subject. Okay, changing it. How were the apartments?"
Trev wrinkled his nose. "The one close to the football stadium was the size of a postage stamp. The o
ther one though…I told the manager I was definitely interested. She said she'd hold it for me until tomorrow."
"Nice, huh?"
"Not like this place, but it is bright and airy and the walls were just painted, she said, and the carpet was cleaned. The furniture isn't new, but then I didn't expect it to be. There's an accordion door-screen thing that can be pulled closed to separate the sleeping area from the rest of the place."
"That's a plus. How big is the kitchen?"
"Umm, I can turn around in it? Hold on." Trev hurried out of the kitchen, coming back with a pen and paper. "You didn't have to do that," he said, when he saw Zack was making the coffee.
Zack shrugged. "Well, you weren't." He came over when Trev sat down and began sketching the apartment.
"This is basically it—the one room with the screen, the kitchen, with a waist-high divider between it and the living room. I figure the divider's supposed to be used for eating. Oh, and a bathroom. The bed has a new mattress, the manager said."
"Another plus. So you're going to take it? The apartment, I mean."
"I think so. Yeah, I am. I have to be out of here by Monday. And…I have to get away from here."
"I know." Zack squeezed Trev's good shoulder. "If you need help packing—"
"Oh God. I have to send John's things to his parents."
"Tell you what. I'm off tomorrow. How about I come by and help?"
"I'd love that. It won't be much. I'm not taking the furniture. I suppose I should call a thrift shop to come get it—and John's clothes." Trev sighed deeply.
"I have a better idea. There's a teen shelter I know about that would love to have anything you want to donate. We'll call them, and I bet they'll send some guys with a truck to take everything."
"Boxes. I need boxes. There's my stuff and the kitchen stuff and the bathroom—"
"If you say stuff again."
They both laughed.
It Takes An Artist Page 7
