Arts and Thefts

by Allison K. Hymas

  She pushed me away. “Not true. I thought you were worth saving, for a while.”

  “I’m not the only one. I retrieve so many stolen objects. Some of them are taken by people just to be mean. But sometimes good people make bad decisions with the best intentions. Sometimes doing right means doing wrong.”

  Becca was red-faced but calm. “Like when?”

  “Let’s see,” I said. “How about when a kid steals a wallet because he left his money at home and is hungry? Or a girl steals makeup, thinking her friend won’t mind and meaning to return it, but she likes it so much she never gives it back. Someone breaks an iPod and steals it to hide the damage.” I stared at her. “A detective hires a known thief, or so she thinks, to get hard-to-reach evidence.”

  I watched the rage creep up her face as my meaning sunk in. Then, when it reached her hairline, she shoved me. Hard. Becca’s strong; her push sent me sprawling into the pile of nets. The blunt object jabbed me in the back again. I think it was part of a goal frame. Joy.

  “How dare you?” Becca hissed as I checked for broken bones. “I’m not like Aaron or Quinn or any of the thieves you should take down but don’t. And I’m certainly not like you.”

  I stood up and dusted off my shirt and pants as best I could, despite the wet cloth. “Got that right. If you were like me, people wouldn’t be so scared of you. Talk to Quinn. Fine. But do it in private. Not in a big drag-out fight like you had with Case.”

  Becca grew quiet. She studied me. “You’re protecting someone.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She nodded, smiling. “Yes, you are. Just like you were protecting someone when you deleted those photos of Mark’s stash.”

  How’d she know that?

  “Have you had a stick up your butt about that all day?” I asked. “That was a long time ago. We got the guy. What does it matter?”

  “What does it matter?” Becca’s eyes were wild. “You really don’t get it?”

  I shook my head and Becca kicked a bag of baseball bats, making them clank and my nerves fire.

  “You really are the worst, Wilderson. All day. Taking me up to that overlook on a fool’s errand, leaving me out in the open when Quinn came into the locker room, and I know you’ve been running gambits behind my back. That’s so like you. I should have expected this ever since you deleted those pictures off my camera. Are we partners or not?”

  “We are!”

  “Really? Then why aren’t you helping me? Why are you taking the best evidence I found away from me?” Becca picked up Quinn’s painting and then threw it back against the wall. “Why are you blocking me and protecting other people? Where are you when I need you?”

  I didn’t know how to respond. I was working with Becca, but I couldn’t do everything her way. I had to protect people from her. Working with the law, or against it, it didn’t matter. I always lost.

  “I’m here,” I said. “I’m your partner. I’ll help you catch the saboteurs. I promise.”

  “I doubt that,” Becca said, advancing on me. I hurried backward, stumbling on the nets again. “If you were with me, you’d support me. You’d come with me to show my mom this.” She picked up Quinn’s painting.

  “You can’t show her that! It’s circumstantial evidence at best. There’s no proof that it’s related to the sabotages at all.”

  Becca frowned. “You’re right. You know what would be better? A confession. I think it’s time to talk to Quinn.”

  I froze. If Becca put the heat to an innocent Quinn, Quinn would only be hurt. But that wasn’t the worst of it. If Larissa was anywhere near her sister, and I bet she was, Larissa would probably give herself up just to protect Quinn. And Becca would fry Larissa. She was already upset, but after this fight, Becca would be even angrier. It would be worse than what happened to Case.

  I couldn’t let this happen. “Let me go with you. Someone needs to save people from your medieval methods.”

  That was probably the wrong thing to say. Becca stood taller, stiffer, and she smiled in a way that brought a new brand of terrifying into my life.

  “No,” she said gently. “You’ll stay here. Consider this a taste for how the rest of your criminal life will be.”

  So fast, before I could blink, Becca pushed the painting at me, slamming it into my chest. It wasn’t painful, but it had force. I landed in the nets again. I struggled to toss the painting aside and sit up.

  “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it is personal,” Becca said. “But I’d terrify a hundred suspects if it would give me the proof I need to stop the sabotage.”

  She slipped out, slamming the door behind her.

  “Becca!” I stood and grabbed at the handle. I pushed. Locked.

  No matter. The lock was on the inside. I undid it and pushed again.

  Thud. The door stopped against something hard and heavy.

  “Oh no you didn’t.” I clambered up a stack of crates and peered out the window. The crate Larissa and I had used to get inside the storage room had been moved so it blocked the door.

  Over to the right, running away through the park, was a very angry, very scary private eye.

  I fell back. This was my fault. I’d brought back all of Becca’s bad feelings, plus interest, and she had trapped me inside the storage room. Now she was off to take her feelings out on her prime suspect, a girl so sensitive that her own sister had replaced her painting to protect her. Becca had no idea of the damage she was about to inflict on two girls who deserved so much better than a public trial and punishment.

  I GRIPPED THE DUSTY WINDOWSILL, stunned. If I hadn’t pushed so hard that Quinn was guilty, if I hadn’t discovered and then tried to defend Larissa, if I hadn’t gone and riled up Becca, none of this would have happened. Becca wouldn’t have gone back and checked on Quinn’s painting, wouldn’t have gone looking for the real one, and wouldn’t have found it in the storage room.

  If I had backed up Becca with her belief in Quinn’s innocence, this wouldn’t have happened. If I had acted like a good partner earlier, this wouldn’t have happened. Is that irony? I get confused.

  But come on. Becca’s whole thing was that breaking the rules hurts people. That’s why she guns for me so hard. How can she not see that what she does hurts people too? Justice isn’t kind, not always, but it should be. Especially for the people who are stuck in a bad situation. I don’t care what kind of pressure you’re under; you don’t take it out on other people.

  And her attack of the Eccles sisters was going to have other, worse consequences. I was sure Becca was right: the only reason the saboteurs hadn’t been attacking more victims was because the heat was on. The freaking cops were here, looking for a culprit. If Becca went in, guns blazing, and hauled Quinn and Larissa off for sabotage, sure, the adults would consider a kid criminal. But in the meantime, Aaron would still be free to act while the adults wasted time with the wrong suspects. That would prove the Eccles sisters were innocent, but some comfort that would be for whomever got hit next.

  I needed to do something. Now. I needed to fix this so that everyone walked away safe. And I needed to prove to Becca that I was there to help her, not hold her back.

  I looked down at the crate blocking the door. Becca had locked me up, imprisoned me in the storage room. Consider this a taste for how the rest of your criminal life will be, she had said. Sick sense of humor on that one. At least I’d be able to play some baseball.

  Good thing she hadn’t been thinking straight. I flipped the window up and let myself out feetfirst. It was a bit of a drop, but I’ve had way worse. Come on; I broke into the room. Did Becca really think I couldn’t break out? But she had slowed me down. Which, now that I think about it, might have been her intention. She was on her way to confront the Eccles sisters, and she had time on me. I had to find them before she did. I broke into a run.

  And then what? Say I managed to find the sisters before Becca did. What then? Becca would still show up, mad at me, and ream out the girls like she had with Ca
se. Worse than with Case. I kept thinking of Aaron, laughed at for finger painting, and still mocked for it a year later. It didn’t matter that the accusations were wrong. What would happen to the sisters if they were publicly accused, in front of other kids, of sabotage?

  They’d get eaten alive, and the saboteurs would be free to act again.

  The idea hit me so hard I actually stumbled as I neared the sculpture garden. Huh. If the girls were publically accused and arrested, the real saboteurs would feel like they were getting away with it. But was that so bad?

  Looking around the park, I picked up the pace. My mind raced with my feet. A good con either threatens the mark with something they can’t live with, or offers them exactly what they want. Usually that thing is security, safety, in some way. If someone else got caught for the saboteurs’ crimes, and they knew it, they’d feel safe. I couldn’t threaten them, because I didn’t know for sure who they were. But if they felt safe, they’d come out of hiding. And we’d be ready for Aaron and his real partner if they took one wayward step toward anyone’s art.

  Also, if my plan worked out, Becca might trust me again. I really did want to help her catch the real saboteurs. I still thought our best bet to do that was by working together.

  I stopped the run as soon as the crowds thickened, and then I wandered the paths without any kind of direction. That’s the best way to find something quickly, pure wandering. Hopefully I’d reach the Eccles sisters before Becca did.

  Oh man. This new plan was not going to be easy. There was a good chance it wouldn’t work and the saboteurs would attack before we could catch them. I would have caused someone else to lose their artwork. There was also a good chance that Becca would kill me for ruining an investigation, or get her mother to arrest me and have me tried as an adult. Not to mention what it could do to Larissa . . . but I had no choice. This was my strongest option. At least if I were doing the accusing, I could control it. I couldn’t do that if Becca were in charge.

  And a good retrieval specialist knows how to stow a few aces up his sleeve. I pulled out my mom’s phone and called Hack.

  “Hey, J,” he said. “Was earlier a bad time?”

  “Huh?” I remembered getting the call while I was in the air ducts. Amazing how stress can make you live in the now. “Oh yeah. A little bit. How’s the investigation going?”

  “Not great. Case lost . . . something that mattered to the job, and now he’s bummed. He did get some interesting information before you called me. Talk about bad timing, man.”

  Oh yeah, let’s talk about bad timing. I’d been in an air duct. But I said, “I’m sorry about that. What were you two up to?” I had to act the part, after all.

  “Never mind. So, what were you calling about?”

  There was my opening. “I had an idea for you guys. You still have the list of possible targets?”

  “Dude. It’s me. I have backups of my backups.”

  “How’s Case? Is he still worried?” While I talked, I walked and craned my neck, looking for the Eccles sisters.

  “Yeah. Finding out he’s a favorite wasn’t a good moment for him.”

  “What if you kept watch over his art? Post a guard?”

  Hack was quiet for a moment. “Not a bad idea, but who would investigate?”

  “One of you could stay stationed at the painting. The other could keep looking for clues.”

  “That could work. Yo, Case!” The sound became muffled as, I knew, Hack and Case debated the idea. I waited for them to come back as I kept walking and looking for the sisters. Where were they? With a chill, I wondered if Becca had managed to slow me down enough to find them before I could. What if she already had them down with her mom at the help office?

  I hurried faster, wishing I could run. But the crowds and my need to be thorough in my search prevented that. I took a left, and a right, and saw nothing. I pulled the phone a little away from my head. My ears needed to be free to listen for the sisters.

  Another corner, and the next. Case and Hack weren’t done debating yet. I walked farther, then spun around on a whim and headed back to the sculpture garden. There they were. Quinn and Larissa, talking and looking at Sandra Lynn’s sculpture, the one expected to win the whole thing. Oh, if Becca saw them there, next to a favorite’s statue, nothing I could do would save them.

  They weren’t alone. Lee and his buddy Ethan were with them. They’d see what I was about to do. Judging by how many pictures of Quinn Lee had on his camera, he would not be pleased with me. So what—it’s not like I cared what that jerk thought.

  Aaron wasn’t there, though. If it turned out that Lee was the accomplice, my life would be easier; he could take the message to Aaron. But I couldn’t explain away Lee’s alibi. He hadn’t been around when Diana’s painting was attacked, and he’d been in the tent during Justin’s. We knew there were two different attackers, and he couldn’t have been either of them.

  I hated myself for what I was about to do. But it was better this way. I wasn’t Becca; I didn’t have her credentials. If I played this right, people would later think I was just some angry kid hurling wild accusations.

  But right now the saboteurs, and the Eccles sisters, wouldn’t think that.

  I took a deep breath, straightened my shirt, and walked over to the sisters. Larissa saw me coming. Her eyes flashed with fear, then with warmth. “Hey, Jeremy,” she said. “How’s it going?”

  Quinn smiled at me. “Want to join us? We’re just admiring the art.”

  “Yeah, I bet you were,” I said, keeping my voice cold and bitter. Quinn’s smile slipped.

  “Jeremy, what’s going on?” Larissa’s voice was guarded.

  I looked at her and cleared my throat. “I know you two are the saboteurs. I’m going to bring you in,” I said, as loudly as I could without yelling.

  Larissa’s jaw dropped. Quinn looked like she’d been turned to stone. I wished I could explain my plan, but that could compromise their reactions. I needed it to look real.

  Lee and Ethan turned to watch the proceedings. “You?” Lee said when he recognized me. “You’re no cop. You’re a hayseed.”

  “I’m a detective,” I said, lowering my voice. The rest of the crowd didn’t need to know this part, but Loudmouth Lee might make the perfect messenger for my trick, even if he wasn’t the other saboteur. “Undercover. I’ve been working to stop crime at the art show today. It’s not my fault if you were so easily tricked.”

  While Lee fed on that, I turned to the sisters and laughed without any joy. “I thought I could trust you, Larissa,” I said. “But it turns out I was wrong.”

  “I—I don’t get it,” Quinn said. “You think I’m the one sabotaging the other art?”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Lee said. His face was serious. When I met his eyes, he looked away. I imagined myself as Becca, vicious and glowing with Justice. Don’t show weakness, I told myself. Be the angry gumshoe. Take them down. Play your part in this con.

  “I’m afraid she did,” I told Lee. “It was only a matter of time before we found out the truth.” Then I turned back to Quinn. “Why are you so calm today, Quinn? Everyone around you is losing their minds, but not you. What do you know that they don’t? We found small dots of black in corners of the sabotaged art. Black, like the tube of paint you have in your purse. Do you think it will be a match, Miss Eccles?”

  “But I—I didn’t do anything.” Quinn looked on the verge of tears. She was holding her left hand in her right, her fingers curled up like a dying flower. She wouldn’t meet my eyes.

  Now that I knew the story from Larissa, it was easier to see the signs of Quinn’s innocence. Attacking her like this felt like a punch to the gut.

  I hated myself. But I kept going. This part, though, I said loudly. “Who has been attacked so far? Painters, Quinn. Your biggest competition. Do you really think I’d think that’s a coincidence?”

  Bad logic. Easily picked apart later. But it made a good show.

  “Back. Off.” La
rissa advanced on me. So I took a step toward her and pushed my face close to hers, like Becca always did to me.

  “Don’t get me started on you,” I hissed. “There was a theft of paint, among that was red paint, and brushes, from Heather Caballero during a pool party that both of you attended. Care to enlighten us about that one, Larissa?”

  She glowered at me but didn’t say anything. Good girl. Never give anything away until you know there’s no point to keeping the secret. But that glare twisted the knife I felt was bent under my ribs. I was doing the exact thing I’d promised to protect her from.

  “We also know the sabotage was done by two people,” I said. I wished Aaron had been there for that part. Carry that one away, Lee.

  “Sisters, like you, must be close,” I said. “Must share everything. Let me lay out how this went down. Quinn enters the contest, and this morning learns about the special new prize the judges added to the pot. Greedy and scared, she comes to her trusted sister for help. Together you hatch a plan to better Quinn’s odds.”

  Lee grabbed my shirt. “She didn’t do anything.”

  I pried his fingers off. “Can you prove that? Have you been with her all day? Can you give me an alibi?”

  Lee’s face reddened. “No. But I know Quinn.”

  “Not as well as you thought, apparently.”

  “She didn’t do it!”

  “How are you so sure? Maybe you know who did it. If so, now would be an excellent time to speak up.”

  Ethan touched Lee’s shoulder. “He’s right. If you know something, you should say it.”

  Lee rounded on him. “Shut. Up. Man, you’re so annoying.”

  Red-faced and stiff, Ethan stared at Lee. Then he shook his head and walked away.

  Lee scowled at me, then turned and melted into the crowd.

  I turned my attention back to the sisters. “Well?”

  “No, that’s not . . . I mean, I wouldn’t . . .” Quinn was sobbing now, tears leaking down her face.