Blue Flower Red Thorns

by Ted Clifton

  “Sold to Mister McDougal, for one point two million.”

  The crowd applauded and cheered, and celebratory drinks made the rounds.

  “I saw Ilse come in and then go out to her room,” Clive told Francis, once he could get free. “What the hell happened?”

  Francis looked nervous. “I’m not completely sure. That van driver told me Anna and Ilse had a little exchange, and that Anna got in her car and left.”

  “Shit.” Clive paused with an angry scowl. “Those two morons are going to screw up everything. At the moment, Anna would blow up the whole world just to get back at Ilse—this is not about business, it’s about sex. We’ve got to stop her before she ruins this for everybody.”

  “My god, Vincent, did you hear how much those paintings sold for?” Jerry was dumbfounded. He thought the art was horrible.

  “Strange world. And strange people. In here, millions were being spent on confusing paintings of nothing in particular, while in the back yard the artist and the gallery owner were in a fight.” He shook his head.

  Jerry stared. “A fight? You mean, like a real fight?”

  “Yep. Hitting, kicking, name-calling. Reminded me of my bar-crawling days, when I wasn’t exactly frequenting high society.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Ilse and Bobby came back in, but I didn’t see them afterward. So, I guess they went through the main building to their casita. Anna took off in her car. Almost ran down one of the caterer guys.”

  “Oh, man. Does Cindy know?”

  “I don’t think so. I was the only one who saw the fight, other than Bobby. I think everyone else was at the auction.”

  “Did you hear what they were fighting about?”

  “No. I saw them arguing, and then all of a sudden, they were on the ground. I ran over and helped Bobby pull them apart.” Vincent looked around. “Have you seen Nancy?”

  “Yeah, just a few minutes ago. She was in the small conference room, talking with Rick.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Vincent went off in that direction. Nancy hadn’t gotten there until after the bidding had started. They’d waved at each other from opposite sides of the crowd, and then he lost her. He poked his head into the conference room. From behind him, Nancy whispered, “Looking for somebody?”

  Vincent actually jumped. “Hey! There you are. What did you think about the art auction?” He was glad to see her, and wanted to give her a hug, but held off.

  “Truthfully, I was amazed that someone would pay that much for any piece of art that wasn’t a Rembrandt. Definitely not something I’d spend big bucks on.”

  They laughed together.

  “Yeah? So, what would you spend big bucks on?”

  “You know, and this may surprise you, I don’t think I would spend big bucks on much of anything. Some of my happiest days were when I was first married and we lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. We had no money, but it was glorious, anyway. I think money can make people lose their minds—do stupid stuff.”

  Vincent smiled, taking the moment to just look at her. “Greed is a bad thing,” he said, finally. “But money isn’t. I don’t want millions, but having enough, whatever that means, is okay with me. Do you mind if I kiss you?”

  “No, I don’t mind at all.”

  “A fight?” Cindy gasped. “I can’t believe that. A real fight, or just yelling?”

  “Vincent said it was a real fight. A hitting, falling-to-the-ground catfight.”

  Cindy shook her head. “I don’t know if I can deal with much more, Jerry. These people are nuts.”

  “Well the show’s tomorrow, and our guests are scheduled to leave the morning after, so we’re just about done with them. I’m sure you can manage to avoid ever seeing Anna again, so just suck it up for one more day, and we’ll welcome some old retiree guests next week who, I’m betting, don’t want to kill anyone.” He was smiling. It could be funny if you looked at it from the right angle.

  “Okay mister, that’s the plan. But you have to promise me that once they leave, we sit down with a bottle of wine and re-evaluate this whole B&B thing. I wanted to keep myself busy, but dealing with wackos isn’t my idea of fun.”

  Jerry was standing by the window. “Come over here. This’ll make you feel better.”

  Cindy got up and went to where Jerry was standing and pointing outward. Sitting in the gazebo in the back yard were Rick and Mariana. Even at that distance, you could see the love in the air.

  “They seem made for each other, don’t they?” she said. “How does stuff like that just happen?”

  “My first guess is that you had something to do with it.”

  Cindy feigned shock. “Not me. I didn’t even know he was coming. And I’d never met him, so how would I know that they would make a perfect match?” She winked at Jerry, then headed to the kitchen.

  Soon the guests began to leave. Within half an hour they were gone, and the Inn was suddenly quiet. Without planning it that way, everyone ended up in the kitchen. Cindy and Jerry passed out glasses of wine.

  “Congratulations to everyone. It was a very successful event,” Jerry said. “It was our first, and I think it turned out just great. We need to get everything back to some kind of order, obviously, so we can serve our guests in the morning. But just ignore the back yard. We can deal with that tomorrow.”

  Clive and Francis had supervised the repackaging of the paintings and followed the van to deliver them back to the gallery, so the dining room was vacant. Everyone chipped in, bringing back the table and the chairs, and putting everything back to normal.

  “We have plenty of leftovers,” Cindy said. “Help yourself to anything you want.” She felt better about the world now that the guests were gone.

  But the break didn’t last long.

  “Hi. Can we maybe get something to eat?” It was Bobby. “I know you don’t serve dinner, but if there’s something left over? We’re going to stay in our room and not go out this evening.”

  “Sure. We’ll put together something and bring it to your room. I’m sure you’re tired.” Cindy didn’t ask about the fight. Mary prepared three trays, just in case the other guests wanted something, too.

  Vincent and Nancy grabbed a plate of leftovers and went out back. They sat down and nibbled for a while, neither saying anything for a while.

  “I think we’re a little old to be playing games, don’t you?” Nancy said at last. “I like you, but I don’t want to get hurt. I know you only planned to stop in Santa Fe for a little while, but it seems like maybe you belong here. What are you thinking you’ll do now?”

  “Yep, no reason to play games,” he agreed. “Back in the day, I married a beautiful woman I was madly in love with. But I ignored her to be with a bunch of drunks. After that, I never trusted my emotions again. Maybe, in an odd way, I decided that part of my punishment for screwing things up so badly was that I’d always be alone. That was my plan for the future—no matter where I was, I expected to be alone. Now I want to be with you. It surprises me, but it’s real.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure I was going to say this to you, because I don’t want to be rejected. But, I love you.” He was immediately nervous. He didn’t want to be hurt, either.

  “Maybe you should take me home, and we can discuss this further.” She was smiling. She grabbed Vincent’s hand, and they left.

  Vincent’s phone vibrated. He put down his cup and answered it.

  “Yeah?”

  “Vincent? Jerry. Not sure where you are, and of course, it’s none of my business.” Jerry waited, but Vincent didn’t say anything, so he continued. “De Vries and her group want to go to the gallery around noon. They have a car, but they want to go in the van. Will you be able to take them?”

  “Sure. No problem. I’ll be back at the Inn in about thirty minutes. And you’re right, it’s none of your business, but I guess in a way it is—I stayed at Nancy’s. See ya in a bit.”

  Vincent was up early, enjoying a
great cup of coffee at Nancy’s tiny kitchen table. Her small house was located downtown, and had a comfortable feel the moment he walked in, like he’d been there before. For the moment, Nancy was still asleep. He decided to leave her a note and head back to the Inn, but once he got outside, he remembered he didn’t have his car. He wasn’t sure about getting a cab this early. But he was getting his phone out to make the call when Nancy came out. She looked wonderful, and even better when she held up her keys and smiled.

  “Saw your note. I don’t need my car today. I can walk to work.”

  On impulse, Vincent hugged her—and hung on. He didn’t usually show his emotions very openly, apart from occasional outbursts of anger, but he was in love. “Thanks for a wonderful night. Need to haul Ilse and company around this morning, but I’ll get your car back to you a little later. Will you be here?”

  “I’ll be at the bar. Come by, and we can talk.”

  “Good talk or bad talk?” He was starting to sound needy, and he didn’t like it.

  “Good talk. I’m not going to run away, Vincent. Relax. Let’s just enjoy ourselves and see what happens.”

  He kissed her on her cheek. “I can do that.”

  As he was driving to the Inn, he noticed he was smiling—not a normal expression for him. He parked next to the van, and checked to make sure it was clean inside, then went in through the back door to the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Mister Vincent.” Mary’s voice had an unusual lilt to it that suggested she knew his secret.

  He wasn’t sure he liked being on display, but decided it was part of belonging in a place. The thought made him smile. “Good morning to you, Mary. What’s that wonderful aroma?”

  “Applewood smoked bacon, green chili omelet with avocado sauce, and a sopaipilla from my special recipe—with spicy honey. There’ll be plenty if you want some.”

  “Yes, I do. I really, really do.” He headed to his room to prepare for the day.

  Vincent was nobody’s gourmet, but he sure enjoyed good food. The omelet was something special, but the sopaipilla with spicy honey was out of this world. He thought about having a third one, but decided it would be too much, even for him. “Mary you’re the best cook I’ve ever known. How did you learn how to do all this?”

  “There were eight kids in my family, and my mother was the best cook in the world. She made wonderful meals every day with very little money. Her mom taught her, and then she taught me. The boys would go outside and play ball or something—the world has not changed much.”

  Vincent heard an edge in Mary’s voice, and decided not to ask for more details. “Well, thanks to your mom, and thanks to you. That was a great late-morning breakfast. Guess I’ll go find our guests and see if they’re ready.”

  Mary nodded and smiled. “Mister Vincent, if you ever need someone to drive the van and you aren’t available, Rick would be happy to help. No cost, he just wants to help.”

  Vincent almost made some wiseass remark about Rick being after his job, but decided Mary might not get that he was only joking. “Sure, that would be great. I’ll talk to him about it. See ya.”

  As he entered the dining room, he saw Bobby standing out by the gazebo, talking on his phone. He wondered whether he should wait until he got off the phone to ask him when he thought they’d be ready, or just go to Ilse’s room and ask her, and decided to wait a bit. It wasn’t long before Bobby pocketed his phone. “Hey Bobby. Morning.” He walked out and shook his hand. Bobby seemed like a good guy, but experience told him first impressions could be very wrong. “Soon as you and the group are ready, we can go. I’ll pull the van around to the front.”

  “Great, great. I think we’re ready. I’ll go get them.”

  No one said much while the group gathered and then boarded the van. Ilse wore large sunglasses and seemed distant. Bente and Dirk sat together, while Bobby and Ilse went to the far seat in back. Vincent was fine with having little or no conversation as he drove. But the tension in the air was palpable, and he soon felt on edge.

  The Howard Marks Gallery occupied a prime location on Canyon Road, and was one of the larger galleries in the area. Vincent pulled up in front and helped his passengers out. Looking into the gallery, he could see a lot of activity, even though it was still hours before the official opening. He gave Bobby one of the Blue Door Inn cards with his number on the back.

  “I won’t be far, so if anyone needs a ride back to the Inn, just give me a call, and I’ll be here. If it’s all right, I thought I might come back once everything gets started, and see what a big-time art show looks like. Think that’d be okay?”

  “Oh, sure.” Bobby nodded. “There are seven paintings for sale today. This time it’s not the auction format. Each piece is negotiated separately, with Clive and Anna handling the sales. In fact, could be they’ve all been spoken for—the gallery people haven’t done a very good job of keeping Ilse informed, and she’s a little pissed. But, anyway, you should come back and look around, as our guest.”

  “Great, okay. I’ll see ya later.”

  It was a short drive to the Crown Bar. Vincent was a little nervous—anytime a woman said they “should talk,” it never seemed to end well. It was probably nothing, but he was still on edge when he entered. He spotted Nancy behind the bar, and waved. She indicated he should take a seat at one of the tables in the restaurant part, and soon joined him. Seeing her wonderful smile made his nervousness go away almost immediately.

  She squeezed his hand and sat down. “Want something to eat?”

  “Mary forced me to eat an omelet and some sopapillas, so I probably should skip at least one opportunity to stuff my face.”

  She signaled a waiter for some chips and salsa, and two iced teas. “Let me start. I know your instincts are to run. I also know we have something that could be special. No reason to beat around the bush. I think you should move in with me. Let’s find out if this is real, or just a fling.”

  “What will your neighbors say?”

  “They’ll say, ‘It’s about time she had a man in that house.’ ” Nancy gave Vincent a big smile. “I know we should probably go slow and test the waters and all that shit. But I thought about it last night, and I think we need to jump in with both feet. If it’s a disaster, we’ll find out quickly, and get it over with. And if not, well, we’ll try to make each other happy and more complete.”

  “I can tell you all the reasons you shouldn’t do this,” Vincent said. “But I wouldn’t want you to listen to me. If you’re willing to give this a try, so am I.” He reached over, took her hand, and squeezed it gently.

  “Another thing we need to get straight, though,” she said, “I don’t want to marry you. For us to make this work, we both need to keep some independence. Agreed?”

  Vincent smiled, even if her words hurt him some. He realized he did want to marry her. He’d just have to work on that. “Agreed.”

  He headed back to the art gallery, thinking about what just happened. On one hand, he had the feeling he’d just negotiated a business transaction rather than dealing with something romantic. On the other hand, he couldn’t stop grinning an idiot grin that told him otherwise. As he got close to the gallery, he could see a crowd out front. He found a parking spot down the street. Walking back, he thought it seemed odd that so many people would be out front and not inside.

  “What’s going on?”

  One of the sidewalk crowd responded. “Not sure. The police are inside, and they asked us to wait here while they searched the building. Maybe some kind of theft, or something?”

  Vincent saw the police chief inside. He moved to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. He managed to catch the chief’s attention. An officer came over and let him in.

  “Hello, Vincent.” Chief Stanton didn’t look pleased about whatever was going on. “You have something to do with this place?”

  “A little. The artist, Ilse De Vries, and her group are staying at the Inn. I brought them here earlier, and was coming back t
o check on them. What’s going on?”

  He took Vincent aside. “Not sure. Do you know anything about an argument between the artist and Anna Marks yesterday at the Inn?”

  “Sure. I was there. I was off some distance when they started arguing, so I didn’t hear what they said. But it turned into an actual fight pretty quickly. Ilse rushed Anna and knocked her to the ground. I ran over and pulled them apart, with help from Ilse’s boyfriend. Has something happened to Anna?”

  The chief gave Vincent the familiar cop look, the one that said, I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone else. “Her body was found this morning in her car. She was strangled.”

  Vincent’s investigator’s mind immediately considered different scenarios. He concluded he needed more information. “Where was the car?”

  “Parked on the street, not far from here—Cathedral Park on East Palace. She was in the back seat. Covered by a tarp.”

  “Not exactly a remote hiding spot. That’s in the middle of a high-traffic tourist attraction.”

  The chief nodded. “Yeah, obviously, it was going to be found sometime today. At first, we assumed that was where the murder took place. But we’re starting to get some forensics back, and we think it happened someplace else, and then the car was driven there. No idea why.”

  “What’s all this action about?” Vincent indicated the art gallery.

  “Once we identified the body, this is where we headed. We’re questioning everyone right now who had any connection with her. After the fight at the Inn, what happened?”

  “Well, Anna was a wee bit drunk. She yelled some things at Ilse, and ran off to the parking lot. Got in her car before anyone could stop her, and blasted out of there—almost ran down one of the caterers. I think she lives around there, although I don’t know that for sure. But I assumed that she was headed home. I think we all did.”