Gwenny June's Tommy Crown Affair
Page 9
Chapter 9 – That Guy
Tommy checked into a room at the Charleston Place Hotel and tried to take a nap, but it didn’t work. He ordered dinner from room service and then spread all the stuff he’d gotten from the museum out on the bed. After eating he poured himself a drink from the minibar and tried to relax, but something bothered him. He knew part of it was jetlag from the Paris trip and then the flight down to Charleston, but there was something else mixed into his psyche too. He studied the architectural drawings of the museum, hoping that would make him sleepy, and saw it was protected by standard physical security measures: armored glass on doors and windows, ventilation shafts blocked, and an exterior skin of structural metals and concrete masonry. From the materials in the thick folder the Curator had given him he saw the electronic security measures also were standard: motion detectors, intrusion alarms on doors and windows, and video cameras. All this reported back to a museum computer that then reported to a security company. There were no guards, inside or out, and no direct monitoring of the electronic devices at the museum’s computer. If an alarm or motion sensor went off, the security company would log onto the museum’s computer, determine the problem, and call the police.
He knew he would have to go over all this again, discuss it with the museum staff, and do a close physical inventory of all the physical and electronic components of the systems, but tonight he was whipped. The systems seemed adequate, so he was intrigued that there were no signs of forced entry – no signs of the intrusion except the absence of the painting. Clearly this pointed to an inside job, and that was what he would start searching for tomorrow.
He swept the stuff off the bed, fixed another drink, and lay down, badly needing to unwind. The architectural plans faded away, along with the notebooks and manuals for the electronics. The Paris job was long gone, as were thoughts of his apartment, his wine collection, and his newspapers. Something remained. Something new. Something nice. Something intriguing. As the booze eased his mind and body, the something appeared. It was the woman in the museum cafe, sitting with two others, looking at him across the room, neutrally but pointedly. He opened his eyes and focused on the ceiling, where he saw two visions, like two projections side by side on a movie screen. One showed the face of the woman in the cafe, and the other showed the face of the woman in the painting. Doppelgangers of beauty.