32) ARTFUL FLURRIE –
c.1860 –
by D.B. Anderson
An “Adonis
Copyright © 2004 D.B. Anderson All rights reserved
Concluding the very dicey Prairie Chicken
Gem incident in Prairie du Chien, Adonis and Flurrie decided to return to
At nine the next morning Flurrie arrived
at their Railroad Stocks & Bonds Agency.
It was a beastly morning, thundering and lightening with a brisk wind
drenching one in cool water. He placed
his umbrella and derby in the cloakroom and hurriedly made a pot of
coffee. He had stopped for some French
pastries and their box was soaking wet and had become lop-sided. He placed it on a silver tray, along with two
cups, and the pot of steaming hot brew.
He moved to the window as lightening
bolted over a very agitated
“Filthy day!” Adonis cried out. “I had a golf outing set up for this
afternoon!” He threw his drenched
umbrella into the cloakroom. “Ah, fresh
hot coffee and French pastries. Good
man!”
He sat opposite Flurrie’s desk, then
sipping on Flurrie’s cup of coffee and tearing Flurrie’s pastry in half,
eagerly devouring it. Flurrie shook his
head, then retrieving another cup of coffee and a pastry for himself.
“I’ll bring some sunshine into your day!”
Adonis smiled, reaching into his suit coat pocket. He pulled out a bulging envelope. “I met my contact last night.” He handed the envelope to Flurrie. “Will $7,500 cheer you up? This is the fifty-fifty split I promised you
from now on in. You are doing a
marvelous job, Flurrie.”
Flurrie opened the envelope and greedily
fondled the currency. “Marvelous job,”
Flurrie quipped sipping his coffee, “but I seldom know what I am doing.”
“And that’s why we work so well together,”
Adonis teased gazing into Flurrie’s downcast eyes. “And this was a tricky one. Especially when the Sheriff showed up at the
very end.”
Flurrie nodded, nibbling on his
pastry. “I thought for sure I was going
to puke when he started searching our bedroom for the ruby and sapphire!”
“I have to admit that even I grew edgy.”
“What’s this?” Flurrie asked himself,
gazing at Adonis in surprise. “The usual
solid as a rock, devil-may-care Adonis
“You are doing just fine, believe me! Now I have some more great news for you! Remember that I said I would arrange a showing
for your paintings and sketches? I
contacted an acquaintance of mine, Manfred Downs of the Beau Beery Gallery, and
we have an appointment with him in about an hour, so let’s gather up your
paintings and sketches at your loft studio and get cracking.”
Flurrie let out a chilled sigh of
frustration, surprise, and hopelessness.
“You are going to give me a heart attack with these quick decisions of
yours.”
Adonis chuckled, raising his index finger
as he always did when making a verbal point, “Remember think about something
too long and it will never happen.
Action wins the day!”
“All right! All right!” Flurrie relinquished. “Let’s beat down the ramparts!”
“Beat down the ramparts?” Adonis queried,
“Who penned that?”
“I have no idea,” Flurrrie grumbled, “I
just hope I am ready for this showing…”
Within the hour Adonis had presented
Flurrie and his art to Manfred Downs, a vanquished London fop, and owner of the
Beau Beery Art Gallery situated next door to the Pfenning Hotel in an exclusive
East Side downtown location in Milwaukee.
Manfred carefully studied each painting and sketch, and then he began
walking around in curious little circles as if lost in thought.
“Manfred!” Adonis shouted impatiently,
“Decision please!”
Manfred gazed very judgmentally at Flurrie, who was one breathe short
from fainting. “Let’s do it!” he
shouted. “We’ll have to wait a few weeks
though. Gi Gi Wilcox of Green Bay has
taken over the gallery for one of her protégés.”
“Gi Gi Wilcox!” Adonis exclaimed.
“Gi Gi Wilcox,” Flurrie echoed. “That’s me!
I mean I forgot to mention that Gi Gi said she might set up a showing
for me here in Milwaukee. I’m currently
finishing her portrait!”
“You
are painting a portrait of Gi Gi Wilcox! Eureka!” Manfred exclaimed, almost
giggling with disbelief. “This will be
the showing of the season! It might even
bring Chicago money up to us!”
“I wish you would have at least mentioned this arrangement you have with
Gi Gi to me,” Adonis scolded Flurrie.
“It all happened so fast,” he
apologized. “And then we went to Prairie
du Chien…”
“Leave my client alone, you bully,”
Manfred announced, placing his arm around Flurrie’s waist and giving him a
tight squeeze. “We have a bright new
star here!” Manfred then threw his arms
wildly into the air. “Busy! A thousand arrangements to make. I’ll set this up as Gi Gi’s showing. I’ll be in contact with you two.”
“I am currently working on Gi Gi’s portrait.
It isn’t quite finished,” Flurrie accentuated.
“I’ll need it by Friday! It will be the centerpiece for the invitation only showing. It will be this Saturday evening, say seven
to nine o’clock, and your work will be featured for a month in my gallery. What say?”
“But I should go up to Green Bay and
personally apologize for my lateness in finishing her painting…”
“Nonsense,” Adonis announced, “I’ll take
the train up and smooth things over with Her Highness this afternoon. I’ll explain your tardiness is caused by the
overwhelming feeling you have in painting her regal personage. And since she has agreed to sponsor you, we
will allow her to pay for everything!”
“Quite so!” Manfred agreed, doing a short
dance. “I’ll have the gallery repainted
a pale yellow. Flurrie’s paintings will
be placed in a maze I’ll create for our guests to roam. Yes, each time they
turn a corner one of Flurrie’s paintings will appear with proper candle
lighting to enhance its light and shadows…”
Adonis motioned to the front door, whispering
to Flurrie, “Genius at work here. Better
we leave before he hands us nails and hammers to help him out….”
On Friday afternoon Flurrie transported
the portrait of Gi Gi to the Beau Beery Gallery, his entire being awash in
pride, and yet a tinge in remorse. He
felt as if he were about to give up a part of his soul. All the years of sketching, progressing his
technique, was now but a few footsteps away to completion. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and
peeked in. Voices were transmitting from
somewhere in the back of the gallery. He
entered finding himself bathed in freshly painted yellow walls and began
walking through a series of partitions forming a maze and miracle of miracles,
actually finding his paintings and sketches hanging in place. He became giddy, almost giggling. He moved to the voices at the end of the
maze resounding from a small office. He
recognized the raucous voices of Adonis and Manfred, but a third male voice
eluded him.
“Excuse me, gentlemen.”
“Flurrie!” Manfred shouted in
surprise. “And you have the portrait of
Gi Gi! Splendid!” He arose from his chair behind the desk, his
eager fingers snatching the painting from Flurrie who seemed reluctant to part
with it. He gazed at Gi Gi’s image and
grinned. “Lovely! Just lovely!”
He held the portrait to the light of a large kerosene lamp on his
desktop, tilting the painting in view of Adonis and the third man.
“Flurrie, this gentleman is Jerry Wilcox,
President of the Green Bay Mercantile Bank.
He is sponsoring the showing as a gift to his wife Gi Gi. It is there thirty-fifth wedding
anniversary. The showing will be a
surprise to her.”
Flurrie shook Jerry’s hand. “A deep pleasure Mr. Wilcox. I trust the portrait…”
Jerry proudly and lovingly held it in his
hands. “It is she. You’ve captured her very essence, especially
her constant wry little grin to perfection.
I will give you twenty thousand dollars as your artist’s fee. Agreed?”
Flurrie became a statue, neither moving
nor speaking. Adonis quickly arose and
placed his arm over Flurrie’s shoulders.
“He agrees.”
“Jerry, I’ll allow you the honor to place the painting in the gallery. Come…” Manfred
said.
As they departed the office, Adonis
pinched Flurrie’s cheek. “Wake up,
Rembrandt.”
“Twenty thousand dollars…” Flurrie choked.
“It is his wife; if he paid any less than
that she would kill him. Come, let’s
join the hanging.”
“I’ll give you half of my commission, it
is our agreement,” Flurrie insisted. “Fifty-fifty…partners. I insist that you take it. This is my opportunity to pay you back, at
least in some small measure, for putting up with me.”
Adonis nodded yes. “I shall accept it under one condition… Promise me you will stop being so damn introspective. It is starting to rub off on me, and that’s
bad for business!” Adonis then broke
into laughter. “Say, by the way, have
you received any word from Pretty Portia the artist model you fired in a moment
of artistic temperament?”
“No. One would think she would have
returned to me by now. She must know I
didn’t really mean to fire her. I was
confused, impetuous….”
“Stupid,” Adonis added. “Perhaps she is waiting to be pursued by
you. She might even be crying herself to
sleep every night…”
“What say?
No, no…. What have I done?”
Flurrie moaned. “Monday is her day off
from work at her employer’s mansion.
I’ll station myself at the servants’ entrance at five in the
morning. Yes, all day if need be!”
“Excellent, but for now let’s investigate
where Jerry hung his wife. Come.”
Flurrie’s first gallery showing
amalgamated with Gi Gi’s birthday party became the ultra high society event of
the season. Everybody who was somebody
dared not appear. Even two dowagers in
their nineties, who introduced themselves to Flurrie as the Vliet sisters,
hobbled through the maze of the
gallery dressed in black silk with white lace trim and bejeweled with about a
pound of diamonds and various large gems adorning their necks, bodice, and fingers. They seemed more anxious to show themselves
off to Gi Gi than immediately view Flurrie’s art, but then as most of the
guests they drifted back with champagne in hand to review Gi Gi’s portrait and
remaining art by this local upstart artist Flurrie Peoples.
Flurrie excitedly remained posted at the
front door to greet the guests as they entered and was able to hear asides of
his artistic talent and general character as the esteemed guests drifted like a
well choreographed ballet troop through the maze, drinking, chatting, and
glancing judgmentally in Flurrie’s direction.
He continuously nodded and grinned to everyone as he began to get tipsy
from all the champagne he was gulping down.
And then Adonis entered the gallery,
slamming the front door behind him. He
was meticulously attired in dapper evening dress, cape, top hat, carrying his
signature wolf head walking cane.
Even Flurrie, well used to Adonis grand
entrances, became engrossed in the spectacle.
Adonis removed his cape with a flourish,
draping it over Flurrie’s arm. “Attend
to this for me, my good man” he said, winking at Flurrie, and then he strode
into the maze as women young and old
alike fluttered their eyelashes, and the gentlemen viewed him as a totally
unnecessary addition to their gathering.
Flurrie felt himself mellow in a great
rush after a few more quick glasses of champagne, and then began to boldly
matriculate among the elite, articulating his painting techniques. He then felt a tap on his shoulder. He glanced back.
“Aren’t you going to give me a birthday
kiss?” Gi Gi teased, looking the absolute queen of the gathering in her tight
fitting low cut gown, wearing a simple gold chain around her neck with a rather
large marquise shaped diamond dangling precariously over her cleavage.
“Birthday kiss? Here?” Flurried gulped.
“Oh!
You wish to give it to me somewhere else!”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Flurrie said,
becoming flustered.
“Just a peck on the cheek. To show the old girls here that I still got
it.”
Flurrie smiled, puckered up, aiming his
lips at her cheek, and she then swung her lips to his, boldly kissing him. He backed off, slightly stumbling. Laughter broke out from the surrounding
partygoers. She then sauntered off to
her portrait, posing next to it, and praising Flurrie’s artistic
abilities. Her husband Jerry joined her,
lovingly placing his arm around her waist and she tenderly kissed him on the
cheek.
Flurrie merrily gazed around at the
gathering and now noticed calling cards placed, or being placed on all of his
art. He was dazed, delirious, and
sleepy. Adonis then suddenly appeared
next to him.
“Holding up, old chum?” he asked, smiling
broadly.
“Incredible. Just incredible.”
“The gathering is moving next door now to
The Pfenning Hotel ballroom for Gi Gi’s birthday ball.”
“Think I could be excused?” Flurrie asked,
wearily shaking his head. “I’m all
played out.”
“Certainly, I’ll cover for you.”
Seven o’clock Monday morning Flurrie
posted himself at the servants’ entrance of the Dorffmeyer mansion. He waited for any sign of life, hopefully
Portia, and finally the door opened to reveal a heavy set elderly woman wearing
a white apron and cap. She began to
shake out her floor dust mop. Flurrie
waived at her and she held up the dust mop in a defensive gesture.
“Excuse me, ma’am…”
“No free food! No handouts!
Get a job!”
“No, no, Will you please give this note to
Portia?”
The woman glanced at the folded note, then
back at Flurrie. “You look like him,”
she stated.
“Like who?”
“The artist gentleman,” she smiled.
“Yes,” he responded in surprise.
“Humph,” she grunted. “She is having coffee. I’ll tell her.”
Flurrie backed away from the door and
nervously waited for her to appear.
Suddenly a swarm of wasps swooped in from nowhere and began dancing
around a garbage bin almost next to him.
He retreated backwards to the stable door.
Portia finally exited the servants’ door,
smartly outfitted in a light blue dress consisting of a form fitting bodice and
full skirt. A straw hat nestled on her
shimmering, long, brunette hair.
“Flurrie,” she chuckled, “Your shoes,” she pointed to them.
He looked down to find himself standing in
horse manure. He shook his head. “What next?” he moaned gazing into her
playful deep azure eyes.
“Come,” she said, extending her hand to
comfort and aid him. “We’ll get you
cleaned up.” She then burst into
laughter. “I’m quite angry with you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’ve come to apologize,” Flurrie
responded, sliding his soiled shoes over a small pile of hay near the stable
door. “I was having
some
business problems that day. I
sorrowfully took my wrath out on you.
Please do return as my model.”
Portia furrowed her brow. “I’m deeply hurt. I just tried to offer you my opinion of your
work, and you exploded.”
“I was having a beastly day,” he said,
becoming lost in her hypnotic blue eyes.
“Do return.”
“Why didn’t you just advertise for another
model?”
“I need you.”
She smiled, touching his cheek with her
hand. “I read about your showing at the
Beau Beery Art Gallery. They said it was
a tremendous success. Congratulations.”
“It was in the newspaper?”
“Yes, the Sunday Gazette. They gave you an excellent writing. New artistic star on the horizon, and that
sort of thing. My employer, Mr.
Dorffmeyer, and his wife were there. He
has an excellent collection of sketches.
He favors them over oil and watercolors.
He has a prize possession, a sketch by Leonardo da Vinci of the Countess
of Malatesta. It is rumored to be worth
$150,000.”
“I have to stop by the gallery later
today,” Flurrie mumbled, barely hearing her last words. “I wonder, would you care to pose for me for
a few hours? We can then visit the
gallery together. That is if you wish
to. And…and, I’ll raise your posing
salary to five dollars per hour. What
say?”
Portia’s eyes lit with delight. “Well, all right, but I am still angry with
you, and I did have other plans for
today.”
Monday went swimmingly well for
Flurrie. Portia appeared very pleased to
be posing for him once again, and Flurrie was equally eager to sketch her
seductive face and soft shoulders, discretely keeping his pencil above her full
bosom. They then visited his artistic
work at the Beau Beery Gallery. Manfred
hugged Flurrie the moment he walked in the door.
“My genius. My protégé!”
He then gazed into Portia’s eyes.
“And who is this lovely vision?”
“My model, Portia Plankowski.”
Manfred took her right hand, warming it
between his two hands, and then kissed it, holding his lips to her blushing
skin as he gazed up into her confused eyes.
“Have I died and gone to Heaven?
You certainly must be an angel.”
Flurrie jealously stepped between
them. “Did all of my work sell? How did we do?”
Manfred grinned. “Exceptionally well. I am actually on my way now to personally
contact every person that left their card on the frames of your paintings and
sketches. You are a resounding success,
my boy!”
Portia quickly slid her right arm around
Flurrie’s waist. “He is a wonderful
artist,” she added, gazing up lovingly into his enlarged brown eyes.
Flurrie’s rosy cheeks turned a fire
red. “You’ll deliver the proceeds check
to my office, I assume,” he added, very business like.
“In about one week,” Manfred answered,
bowing slightly, still grinning. “I
trust you are creating another series for us?”
“Yes,” he stammered, glancing at
Portia. “A portrait of Portia… To start off…”
Portia moaned with delight, squeezing
Flurrie closer. “Flurrie…”
“Excellent! A
Portrait of Portia, it positively sings!”
Manfred then paused, and raised his right hand in thought. “Actually, I’m on my way to deliver one of
your sketches now. Why don’t you two
enjoy the gallery. Give Portia the grand
tour. There is champagne in my
office. When you leave merely turn the
printed card in the door’s window to read BACK IN A FEW. The door will lock automatically when you
pull it shut. Enjoy yourselves!” he
ordered, leaving to quickly enter a cab waiting for him at curbside.
As the cab pulled away, Portia suddenly
waived her arms in the air and began twirling and dancing as a freed nymph
would, round and around the maze of panels holding Flurrie’s art. He at first watched her motions in confusion,
and then began dancing and spinning himself, bursting into laughter.
The next morning Flurrie met with Adonis
in their agency office. Adonis ginned
teasingly. “Flurrie, lad, I’ve never
seen you so enlivened! What happened to
you yesterday? Were you able to contact
your ex-model Portia?” He then
snickered. “A foolish question.”
“Yes,” he said, lowering his head, straining
to be very business like. “All is
well. We visited the Beau Beery
Gallery. Manfred said he will have the
proceeds of the sales to me in about one week.”
“Excellent! I’m very pleased for you,” Adonis said,
extending his right hand to Flurrie. “You
deserve the success.”
Flurrie almost shyly shook his hand. “I will give you half of all the proceeds of
my sales.”
“No,” Adonis asserted. “I had nothing to do with creating your art
work. That money is yours.”
“But…”
Adonis waived his hands with a negative
gesture. “Buy me a box of Cuban Royalist
cigars. I’d enjoy that.”
“I shall!
A dozen boxes!”
“All right I surrender,” Adonis
laughed. He then paused with a quizzical
expression engulfing his face. “I
understand Portia is a maid in the Johann Dorffmeyer mansion?”
“Yes she is. The upstairs maid. Why/”
“He has an excellent collection of
sketches by some of the world’s leading artists, both past and present. I’m given to understand that some of them are
very rare.”
“Portia did mention a sketch by Leonardo
di Vinci of the Countess of Malatesta.
She said he has all of his sketch collection hanging in a locked room
located on the second floor in the rear of the mansion. She said she is only allowed to clean the
room when he is present, and it makes her very nervous about dusting off the
glass coverings and frames of the art work.
She is deathly afraid she will break something. ”
Adonis eyes danced. “Yes, Yes.
The Countess sketch.” He gazed
cautiously at Flurrie “The Countess…”
“No!
No, no, no! Portia will get into
trouble! I like her very much….”
“How will she get into trouble? She will not be involved in our scheme.”
Flurrie stood in abject confusion. “I don’t know….”
“Johann Dorffmeyer is worse than a
cad. He is a slave driver of the first
degree. He mistreats his employees, and
is a liar and a cheat well beyond the norms of the business world. When a woman employee becomes pregnant, he
throws her out on the street as being a useless worker. He slaves his employees double shift every chance he gets to save money. If they refuse the extra work, he fires
them. He even fires some of them if they
become ill for more than a day! He
deserves a major disappointment.” He paused,
grinning in delight. “It will be another
grand adventure for us!”
“Perhaps our last,” Flurrie mumbled. “I saw Police Sergeant Bruno Holstein
watching our office building again from across the street.”
“Let him watch. He is ready for retirement. He has little else to do. Let’s keep him amused,” Adonis chuckled.
“But why does he suspect us?”
“What makes you say that? He is an old warrior. He might be watching anyone in the
building. Perhaps the attorney, the
doctor, the manager. Maybe he is
watching someone down the street. Not to
worry.”
Flurrie stared inquisitively at Adonis,
who was smiling, yet there was a tinge of doubt showing every so slightly in
his eyes. “I don’t trust him, Adonis.”
Flurrie accentuated.
“He’s doing what a police officer does;
observing. Don’t let him intimidate
you. Don’t let anyone intimidate you. I learned that very early in life.”
“How so?”
“My father owned the leading men’s
haberdashery and tailor establishment in Boston. We had a very good life. When I turned seventeen and was ready for
Harvard, a leading New York manufacturer of men’s clothing set up a branch of
his business in Boston. He attempted to
buy my father out, and when my father would not sell, this individual
discredited my father in every way possible, spreading filthy lies and rumors,
and he even went so far as to have a few of my father’s employees beaten.
Can you imagine that? This man was and is a complete thug! He ruined my father’s good will and reputation
that he built through twenty-seven years of honest toil. Through blatant intimidation he destroyed our
lives. My father simply didn’t know how
to stand up to him.”
“My, God!” Flurrie shook his head in
disgust. “The man is a filthy bastard!”
Adonis took a deep breath. “I swore revenge on this individual, and the day will come when I financially destroy
him.” He paused. “Flurrie, I send one third of all the money I
make to my parents to help support them in the life style they deserve. They know I own the railroad stocks and
bonds agency, but of course know nothing of my auxiliary money making job.”
He then paused to collect himself, and broke into his easy-going
patented flashy smile. “Well, enough
confessionals. We have a job to do! How to go about it. Any ideas off the top of your head?”
Flurrie threw up his arms in
confusion. “Me? I haven’t a clue!”
Adonis wet his lips in thought, as if
about to enjoy a succulent meal. “Start
by obtaining a book of Leonardo da Vinci drawings. Find a drawing of the Countess of
Malatesta. Next sketch a perfect copy of
the Countess on vellum. Manfred has
quite a collection of art books and supplies at his gallery. He will be able to aid you with this.” He paused, and then his eyes brightened as
another piece of the puzzle before them was talking life. “Johann Dorffmeyer did buy one of your
drawings, I believe.”
Flurrie nodded positively. “A sketch of two wolves running for cover in
a rain storm on the Canadian prairie.”
“Accompany Manfred when he delivers your
sketch. Mention you have heard of his
world-class collection of sketches and would very much enjoy viewing them. With his ego I’m sure he will allow you two
experts into his Sketch Gallery
sanctuary. Obviously, be very alert when
you are in the gallery. Bring back a
full description of the room. Note any
hangings a bit crooked, excessive finger soiling on a certain section of the other
wise clean wallpaper, anything unusual as a clue to a hidden wall safe” He paused again. “When Portia described the room did she
actually say she saw the Leonardo da Vinci Countess
of Malatesta hanging on the wall?”
“Yes, as far as I remember she did seem to
indicate that.”
“Good!
I wonder if he has a wall safe at all?”
“We are just going after the Countess, are we not?”
“Certainly,” Adonis chuckled. “Just cataloging the information for further
reference.”
“Most certainly,” Flurrie laughed. “One can never have too much… information on
file.” He then scratched his head in
doubt. “I do have a question. Manfred will be taking me to the Dorffmeyer
mansion, what if Manfred catches on to what we are doing?”
“Great thinking, old man, but not to worry. Manfred is, in reality, our art theft middleman. He is a member of a confidential group specializing in selling purloined art in a secret marketplace for such items worldwide. You can confide in him on all matters regarding the disposition of any type of purloined art.”
Flurrie shook his head in disbelief. “It never ends. Surprise after surprise.”
“He, of course, does not get involved in
the actual theft, just the disposition of same.
I’ll reconnoiter the mansion from outside, checking on pedestrian
traffic patterns in and out of the house, lights on, lights off in the windows
at night. That sort of thing. Let’s plan our job for Thursday next. I’ll
meet you in your artist loft at eleven at night. Wear black,” Adonis teased, “this will be a
formal occasion.”
Thursday night couldn’t come fast enough
for Flurrie. He had enough to keep
himself busy, yet the anticipation; the pure excitement of doing the job consumed him. He found a book of Leonardo da Vinci art
prints in Manfred’s extensive art library at the Beau Beery Gallery. Manfred also had a supply of vellum, drawing
papers, oil and water paint, pencils and various art supplies for the general
public.
Flurrie meticulously sketched every genius
line and pencil stroke of Leonardo’s Countess of Malatesta onto the vellum. He was very pleased with his output, showing
it to Manfred who carefully took it from his hands.
“Marvelous. We must age it a bit though. I have some chemicals.”
Flurrie watched another true artist at
work in Manfred combing liquid from two bottles, then dabbing the mixture on
the vellum with a linen cloth. An aged,
uneven tinge immediately engulfed the sketch.
“There the vellum is now circa 1505, give
or take a few years.”
Adonis arrived at Flurrie’s artist loft at
ten-thirty Thursday night. There was a
light mist and partial fog emitting from Lake Michigan, a sense of danger
seemed to hang in the air.
“Ready for adventure, old friend?” Adonis
asked, a roughish grin across his lips.
He was attired in the color black from head to toe, and he curiously had
his walking cane strapped over his right shoulder as one might carry a hunting
rifle.
“My sinuses are really bothering me, and
my allergies are torture In this weather,” Flurrie complained, surrendering up
his rendition of Leonardo’s Countess of Malatesta to Adonis.
“It’s a filthy night out there,” Adonis
agreed, viewing the drawing and shook his head approvingly. “Magnificent.” He then tightly rolled up the vellum copy,
unscrewed the bottom of his walking cane strapped to his shoulder, slid the
copy up into the shaft of the cane and then screwed the bottom back in
place. Flurrie watched the entire
operation with a great amount of delight.
“Our cab awaits,” Adonis dramatically announced, pointing to the door. “Let’s off!”
Flurrie remembered the black, sleek,
ominous appearing cab from their first job,
the frightening Double Diamond
heist. The shimmering cab stood in the
gray fog and mist as it were a vehicle from Hell. It silently glided and cut through the
worsening fog and mist, and in less than twenty minutes came to a stop.
“Come,” Adonis said as they exited the cab
and it quickly disappeared into the murky atmosphere. “Follow closely; only step on the grass. We wish to leave no footprints.”
Flurrie obediently stumbled behind his
mentor gripped with the certain fear that he was going to perish this night;
each footstep, his last. And then,
looming before them was the backside of the Dorffmeyer mansion.
“Up there,” Adonis whispered, pointing to
an upstairs balcony. He then untied a
long length of thin rope from around his waist.
He formed one end into a lasso and tossed the loop into the air,
securing it around a large gargoyle of some sort of ferocious devil beast.
Adonis made his way up the rope like a cat
in the night. Flurrie tried his damndest
to climb up the rope, but simply hadn’t the skills. Adonis waived for him to wait as is.
At least ten minutes passed before Adonis
slid down the rope. “Hurry, I think I
heard someone in the hallway up there.”
Suddenly a light showed from the room above. “Hurry, hurry,” Adonis whispered. They moved double time through the fog, to
the roadway. Their cab was waiting, and
they disappeared into the murky depths of Lake Bluff Road and into Milwaukee.
As they sat in the moving cab Flurrie
glanced at Adonis and was surprised to find his otherwise steel-nerved boss -
definitely edgy, and he dared not speak.
Upon exiting the cab, Adonis removed an
envelope from his jacket breast pocket.
The thick, calloused hand of the cab driver reached down and snatched
the envelope, waiving it playfully in the air, and the gray cab slithered away
into the fog bound night.
Flurrie led Adonis up the stairway to his
loft quarters. He turned up the light of
the kerosene lamp on his dining room table, and then moved to the cupboard
lowering a bottle of brandy and two snifters from the top shelf. He placed them on the table. Adonis quickly poured the golden fluid into
his glass and took a long soothing swallow.
“I have the distinct feeling that things
did not go well,” Flurrie finally stated, pouring himself a brandy.
Adonis then reached for his walking cane
still slung over his right shoulder unscrewed the bottom and removed a piece of
antique vellum. “It was close. Too damn close for comfort. As I was going over the railway to descend I
heard the hallway door open in the room.”
He then broke into a teasing smile.
“My God, I hope I took the right sketch!
It was touch and go in there. I
might have mixed them up!” He handed the
vellum to Flurrie. “What is your
opinion?”
Flurrie anxiously, yet carefully unrolled
the vellum. He held the drawing up to
eye level in nervous reverence. “My
Lord, I’m holding an original Leonardo da Vinci drawing in my hands!”
“I’m afraid I left a bit of a mess up
there. I didn’t have time to place your
copy into the frame and return it to the wall, but I did leave your copy next
to the frame on the floor. Perhaps
Dorffmeyer will consider it a robbery gone bad, with his drawing still
intact.” Adonis then retrieved the da
Vinci sketch from Flurrie. “I must
leave. I’ll be stopping by Manfred’s
gallery now. He’s quite anxious to sell
the Leonardo. See you at ten in the
morning in our office.”
Flurrie awoke early the next morning, and
worked on the painting of gorgeous Portia.
As he filled in her full sensuous lips, he almost reached over and
kissed them. TAP, TAP, TAP, resounded
from the door of his studio. He shook
amour from his thoughts, grumbled, and unlocked the door to find Adonis gazing
sternly at him.
Adonis pushed Flurrie aside, and then spun
around waiving his walking cane wildly in the air. “Flurrie, the Leonardo drawing is a fraud!”
“What?”
“A
fraud. Manfred had his source appraise
it and he said it is the Jacques Mere
fraud.”
“What in the hell is that?”
“Jacques Mere made a clandestine copy of
the drawing just over two hundred years ago.”
Flurrie fell onto one of the dining room
chairs. “Excuse me I’m having a nervous
breakdown.”
“But here is the good news!” Adonis
announced. ”The fake is also somewhat
valuable as a collectible. Perhaps
$40,000. We will receive 20% of
that. A pittance, but better than
nothing for our interesting night
adventure.” He paused. “Cheer up.
The sun is shining. I think I
shall form a game of golf for later this afternoon. Yes, I’ll contact a few of the boys and see if they wish to meet me for
a business appointment on the golf
field. Ta, Ta, for now.”
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