Ancient Hiss Story

K
ate Diamond stared
at the oil painting on the table in front of her and wondered why her boss wanted it so badly. Sure, it was old. Very old. But she couldn’t see what made it special enough to warrant sending someone all the way from the
Ritzholdt Museum
in Boston to East Overshoe, Ohio, in order to acquire it. Couldn't they have just wired the money and had the owner ship it?

Not that she was complaining. She’d have done just about anything to get out of the stifling boredom of the
Ritzholdt Museum’s
security office where her job as chief security liaison had consisted of shuffling papers around her desk for the past three months. She found the desk work boring, but thankfully that was only a small part of her job. Normally, she was assigned to the more important field work of retrieving stolen artwork and relics.

There hadn't been any field work for several months, which seemed odd because there was always something going on in the museum world. But if there had been field work, she would've known about it seeing as she was chief security liaison. And there was no reason for her boss not to send her out in the field. Well, not unless he was worried about her freezing up like she'd done in Stockholm.

Kate pushed away her uneasy feelings about the Stockholm incident and told herself that it had been no big deal. She'd been sent out to retrieve an important religious artifact and had ended up in a gunfight. That in itself wasn't unusual and Kate was a pretty good shot, but the problem was she'd frozen up right in the middle of things and almost gotten herself and her partner killed.

Luckily, she'd only frozen for a few seconds and it had ended up okay. They'd secured the artifact and Kate and her partner had been fine, other than a small scar on Kate's arm where she'd been grazed by a bullet.

It wasn't being shot that had bothered her the most. It was the battery of tests that the museum had thrust on her to determine if she was suited for field work. That, and her wounded pride.

The tests had proven she was fine. She’d merely had a moment of intense anxiety under high stress. It could happen to anyone. She'd been cleared to go back in the field months ago and apparently, this was the first field work that had come up.

She'd jumped at the chance to fly out to acquire the painting. True, this was about as exciting as watching bowling in comparison to some of her other assignments, but it sure beat shuffling papers.

She looked up from the painting to the senior citizen seated across the Formica table from her. Estelle Perkins, the owner of the painting, fretted with the frayed hem of her avocado and gold pineapple-patterned apron. The apron looked to have been purchased around 1975 and apparently Estelle didn’t think she’d needed a new one since then, preferring to make this one last as evidenced by the careful stitching indicating minor repairs in several spots.

Looking around the kitchen, Kate noticed the appliances and furnishings were decades old. Estelle must have applied the same philosophy to everything she owned.

Estelle seemed like a nice woman. Frugal. Salt of the earth type. Kate didn’t want to lowball her, but she also didn’t want to pay too much. Besides, the amount she was about to offer would probably seem like winning the lottery to an elderly person on Social Security.

“So, fifty thousand, then?” She’d been advised to pay up to two hundred and fifty thousand, but having seen it in person, she hardly thought the painting worth it. Maybe Max had made a mistake or this was the wrong painting. At the very least, she could save the museum some money and make some brownie points while she was at it.

Estelle’s mouth tightened. Her eyes drifted over to door. “Well, I don’t know…” Estelle shifted in her seat and looked down at the painting again. “I think it’s worth more than that. There seems to be a bit of interest in it.”

Interest? Kate’s boss, Maximilian Forbes, hadn’t said anything about anyone else being interested in the painting. Kate got a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach which was validated by the knock coming from Estelle’s front door.

Estelle bolted up from her seat. “My, my, who could that be?”

She shot Kate and apologetic look and bustled off toward the front. Kate’s nerves started to work overtime.

Estelle came back with two strange men who looked just as surprised at Kate's presence as she was at theirs. The men wore almost identical black suits and had almost identical short buzz haircuts and dark sunglasses. One of them had an onion-shaped black mole on his face. Kate was fleetingly reminded of the movie,
Men in Black
, but these guys looked more like thugs than aliens.

“What is this?” Onion Mole gestured toward Kate.

“Well…” Estelle seemed flustered, and with good reason. She’d snookered both of them, playing Kate and the
Ritzholdt Museum
against the
Men in Black
—whoever they were. It was a dangerous game, but Kate could kind of understand where the old lady was coming from—she just wanted to get the most she could for the painting.

“Kate here is from the
Ritzholdt Museum
and I was just telling her how much interest this little painting had garnered. I was very confused about who to sell it to and I wanted to make sure you all saw it before purchasing it.” Estelle looked around uncertainly. “That's why I invited you all here to look at it.”

Onion Mole scrutinized Kate. “
Ritzhold Museum?
What do
you
want with it?”

Kate shrugged. Neither man made an attempt at hand-shaking, so she didn’t, either. But she felt at a disadvantage not knowing who the
Men in Black
represented. “Oh, you know, we like to buy paintings to hang up around the museum. Spruces the place up … and who might you be?”

The men ignored her question. Onion Mole looked down at the painting on the table. “Is this it?”

Estelle nodded.

The two suits bent over the painting. Kate noticed that one of them, the man without the mole, had a gold serpent ring on his finger. Its ruby eyes winked at her and made her shudder. Kate did not like snakes.

The
Men in Black
finished their inspection, looked at each other and nodded.

“We will buy it,” Onion Mole said.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Kate cut in. “I’m going to buy it.”

Snake Ring glanced at her as if she were insignificant. “I do not think so. We have come here specifically to acquire the painting.”

Kate bristled. “Yeah, so have I.”

He ignored her and turned to Estelle. “How much?”

Estelle glanced from Snake Ring to Onion Mole to Kate. Her finger worried a thread on her apron while she considered his question. “My late husband, Frank, bought this painting at the estate sale of the archaeologist, Reginald White. Frank always said it had value beyond its subject—whatever that means. He was very good with antiques, you know. Anyway, he always told me that the best way to figure out what an antique was worth was to let the market decide and so I think we should let the market decide.”

Onion Mole scrunched up his face. “What does that mean?”

“You people should bid on it. I’d like to get as much as I can and it seems the only fair way.” Estelle gestured around the kitchen. “As you can see, Social Security only gets you so far.”

“What?” Kate stared at Estelle incredulously. She didn’t like the idea of bidding against these guys, but she had to admit she had a newfound respect for the old lady who had pulled this trick off to get as much as she could for the painting. Now she’d probably have to pay the full two hundred and fifty thousand that Max had allotted but she felt kind of glad it was going to Estelle. What the heck. It wasn’t her money, anyway.

“It’s the only way to establish fair market value. You guys are lucky I wasn’t able to find more bidders.” Estelle picked up a copper teakettle from the top of her bulky, white 1940s stove. “Tea, anyone?”

“We don’t want tea. We will pay one hundred thousand dollars,” Onion Mole said.

Kate straightened in her chair. Fine. If that was the way they wanted it, she’d play. “One hundred fifty thousand.”

Onion Mole glared at her. “One seventy-five.”

“Two hundred,” Kate shot back.

Onion Mole darted a look at Snake Ring. Snake ring nodded. Kate figured they must be getting maxed out.

“Two twenty-five,” Onion Mole said.

Shoot, it was getting close. But Kate would be damned if she’d let these guys waltz in and steal the painting right out from under her.

“Two fifty.” Kate leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest smugly. Given the look they’d exchanged fifty thousand dollars ago, she was sure they wouldn’t want to pay more than that for the painting.

“Three hundred thousand,” Onion Mole shot back.

Crap! Kate’s eyes drifted from Snake Ring to Onion Mole to Estelle. Estelle was still standing at the stove, a tea kettle in one hand and a yellow gingham towel in the other. She was staring at them with rapt attention. Probably already spending the money.

Kate was only supposed to go up to two fifty, but the museum was loaded with money and with Estelle being the payee, she felt like it was going to a good cause. She wasn’t cleared to make the decision to spend more, but she knew Max really wanted the painting and she couldn’t very well call him and ask for permission right in the middle of bidding. Plus, if these guys were so gung-ho to pay more for it, it obviously must be some sort of a find. Max would be upset if she didn’t go all out to secure the painting for the
Ritzhold
and it ended up in some other museum.

“Five hundred thousand!” Kate smiled disarmingly at Onion Mole.

Onion Mole’s brow creased but with those dark glasses on, it was impossible to read his eyes. “Fine, have it your way.”

The feeling of triumph that surged through Kate’s chest was short-lived when he pulled the strangest-looking gun she’d ever seen out of his jacket. It looked like some sort of modern day blunderbuss. Kate would have been intrigued if he wasn’t pointing it at her face.

“I see you will not back down, so I regret that we will end the bidding here,” Onion Mole said.

Snake Ring piped up. “Wally, the boss said not to kill—“

“Shut up!”

Kate squeezed her eyes shut and wondered how badly it hurt to have your face blown off as she heard the click of the hammer.

She was surprised to find out that it didn’t hurt as bad as she would have thought. She expected an explosion of pain in the front of her face, but instead, it was more like a sting in the side of her neck.

Her knees went weak and her eyes flew open as she collapsed on the floor. Across the room, Estelle stared at Onion Mole with wide eyes as he swung the blunderbuss in her direction.

Kate wondered how she could even still be watching what was going on. Maybe she was having one of those out-of-body experiences she heard people had when they died.

Onion Mole squeezed off a shot and a dart flew out of the gun. It zoomed toward Estelle's foot, stuck into her big toe and vibrated back and forth like a javelin.

A dart gun!

As if in slow motion, Kate watched the teakettle fall to the floor, bouncing once as water splashed out. The tea towel fluttered onto the top of the stove as Estelle slumped to the floor.

Kate’s fingers flew up to her neck and felt a similar dart. Her face hadn’t been blown off! She’d just been stuck with a dart. That may or may not have been preferable, considering whatever was on the dart had turned her legs into useless logs, rendered her arms barely able to move and was now causing her vision to fade.

As Kate lost the battle for consciousness, the last thing she saw was the
Men in Black
scoop the painting off the kitchen table on their way out.

K
ate jerked awake
. Opening one eye, she saw a big, bunion-afflicted toe with a dart sticking out of it and quickly remembered why she was lying on the floor. Then her heart kicked in her chest as she noticed the smoke.

Estelle’s house was on fire!

She pushed herself up. The adrenaline that was now shooting through her veins cleared her head quickly and washed away the residual effects of whatever was on the dart she'd been shot with.

A quick glance over to the stove told her what the problem was. The stove top and wall behind it were on fire. Kate remembered the tea towel Estelle had been holding when she got shot with the dart. She must have dropped it on the gas stove and it caught on fire.

Estelle was in a heap at the foot of the stove. Kate hurried over, touching her hand which, thankfully, was warm.

“Estelle! Wake up, the house is on fire!”

She pulled the dart out of Estelle’s toe. And then the one out of her own neck.

“Ouch!” Estelle scowled at her. “What happened?”

“Those men in suits. They knocked us out and took the painting.”

“Darn it!” Estelle’s face crumpled. “I was counting on the money from that for my retirement. Social Security doesn’t even pay the taxes on this place anymore.”

Kate pulled the old woman up. “We have more important things to worry about. Your kitchen is burning.”

“Oh, is that what that smell is? I just thought the stove was on the fritz again.”

Kate’s heart hammered in her chest as she pulled Estelle to her feet. The flames were spreading quickly—what did Estelle have on her walls? Kerosene?

The faded chicken and basket motif wallpaper curled off the wall in strips as the flames spread onto the suspended ceiling. Kate knew they had to get out of there fast before the ceiling fell in. Estelle, on the other hand was taking her sweet time.

“Come on, we'd better get out of here!” Kate yelled, trying to instill some urgency in the senior citizen.

Estelle held her hand up. “Okay, okay. I guess I never should’ve gotten fancy trying to have an auction on that painting. I should have just sold it to you.” She glanced at the kitchen table and her brows shot up to her forehead. “Well, looky there.”

Kate looked at the table. The painting was gone, but in its place was a pile of money.

The
Men in Black
had left money?

What were they, some kind of gentlemen thugs? She stood there staring at the table wondering how much money they’d left. Was it their top bid of three hundred grand or their initial bid? What did a hundred grand even look like? Kate had no idea.

While Kate stood looking, Estelle had already high-tailed it to the hall closet and pulled out a duffel bag. She bustled back to the table and started shoving the money inside.

A flaming ceiling tile fell down behind Estelle. The woman must have had nerves of steel.

“I don’t know if we have time for that, Estelle!” Kate tugged on Estelle’s elbow.

Estelle pushed her away. “Phooey. I didn’t go through all this to just let this money go up in smoke!”

Estelle shoved the rest of the money in the bag and Kate pulled her out of the kitchen into the living room, then shoved her through the front door and took off across the yard. Estelle took one wistful backward glance before following Kate.

From outside, Kate could see the kitchen end of the house was now engulfed in flames. Lucky thing she’d woken up when she had. She scrambled as far from the house as she could. Estelle, clutching the duffel bag to her chest, followed her to the edge of the road, where they collapsed on a log.

“Who were those guys?” Estelle asked.

“You’re asking me?” Kate said. “You’re the one that invited them. How did you find them?”

“Actually, they found me.” Estelle frowned. “As I seem to recall, they’d recently heard that Nelson—that’s my husband—had the painting in his possession. I had already contacted the
Ritzholdt Museum
and you were already on your way here, so I figured if I scheduled them to come out on the same day, I could get you into a bidding war.”

“Yeah, that ended up good.” Kate had a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something told her there was more to this painting than met the eye.

Estelle grimaced, then looked at the bag. “Well, at least I got something.” She glanced back at the burning house. “Should we call 911?”

Kate was already dialing 911 on her phone, though she was more interested in finding out who the men were. What kinds of art buyers carried dart guns and shot their clients and whoever else was in the room when the bidding didn’t go their way? Clearly, something more than just art was at stake here, but it didn’t seem like Estelle knew much more about the
Men in Black
.

She made the call, then stared at the cell phone in her hand, her stomach sinking when she realized she’d have to call the
Ritzholdt
and report what happened. Clearly, there was more to this painting than Max had let on. Either he didn’t know or he’d kept that information from her, but either way she’d failed on her assignment and she didn’t relish the thought of telling him. On the other hand, she hadn't frozen in the face of danger. She'd gotten her and Estelle out of the burning house. At least that was something.

Crash!

Behind them, the roof in the back of house caved in. Kate realized her own problems paled in comparison to Estelle’s. The woman had just lost her house.

Kate put her hand on Estelle’s arm. “You going to be okay?”

Estelle shrugged. “Yeah, sure. It has been kind of a long, weird day. But I think I’ll be okay.”

Kate’s heart crunched. Maybe Estelle didn’t realize the magnitude of what was happening behind them. “But your house is burning down. Everything’s destroyed.”

Estelle glanced back at the house. She gave an easy-come, easy-go half-shrug and patted the duffel bag. “That’s okay. It was time for me to buy new stuff anyway.”