The Crew Arrived Before The Revised Work Notice Expired

I called Mara while Rhea was still on my other line.

“We've received it,” Mara said. “Stay at your shop. Is June still at the church?”

“Yes.”

“Keep it that way. We'll contact Rhea directly.”

I did not offer to hide in the theater. I had no wish to become a brave outline in someone else's report.

Instead, I called June.

“Don't come near the Bellwether tonight.”

“We're finishing here. Rhea told us to leave our costume bags until tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“Mom, where are you?”

“At my bench.”

“Stay at your bench.”

Children learned our best lines and used them against us.

At six, Mara called to ask about an old loading plan. Rhea had found my name on it. Could I explain the marks by phone?

I spread my copy under the lamp.

“The double line is the lift entrance,” I said. “The dotted line is scenery travel. It isn't a wall.”

“And this square?”

“An old trap cover. It was fixed shut before my time.”

She thanked me and hung up. I had been useful without going anywhere near a truck.

The next hour moved like cold glue.

I washed brushes that were already clean. I opened the fridge and forgot what I wanted. At last, I took a gray paint skin from its box and laid it on black card.

A ridge. A low valley. A narrow place where light could get through.

At eight seventeen, Elias called.

“Everyone's safe,” he said first.

I put both hands on the bench.

He told me what he was allowed to tell. Later, I learned the rest from reports and testimony.

Officers had reached the theater with authority to search the work area and seize the listed panels and records. Rhea had given them access. She and the caretaker waited away from the service entrance.

At seven forty, a Kells truck had backed into the alley.

Len Pike, Dorian's foreman, had unlocked the loading door with a key Martin had supplied. Two workers had rolled in wooden frames like the ones taken from my shop.

One ceiling panel was already loose on a lift. Six padded pockets waited below.

The officers stopped the work.

The workers said they had been told the pieces were being sent for repair. They gave statements. Their names went into the reports, with what each had done and what each had known.

Len had a different problem. His clipboard held two lists: one naming old originals for a private buyer, one naming replicas for the theater inventory.

Dorian arrived while officers were still inside.

He wore a good overcoat. He asked who was in charge. Then he said the whole thing was a misunderstanding about a painting contract.

“Sunhee gets confused,” he told Mara.

She asked him which contract.

He pointed to the false invoice.

She placed it in an evidence sleeve.

He had brought his own copy.

“Was he arrested?” I asked Elias.

“Yes. Len, too. They'll appear before a judge. The lawyers will decide the charges they can support.”

I let my breath out slowly.

“What about Martin?”

“He's being interviewed. I can't give you more yet.”

“All right.”

I meant it. I had learned there was strength in a blank space left honestly blank.

Before ending the call, Elias said, “Mara will be your main contact from here.”

My heart sank in a foolish, private way.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. I told my supervisor I had feelings that could get in the way of my role with you. I asked to step back from your evidence and interviews.”

I sat down.

“You filed that?”

“There was a form.”

A laugh escaped me, small and shaky.

“Of course there was.”

“I won't ask you to make this easier for me,” he said. “Mara and the prosecutor will keep the case separate from whatever we may decide later.”

“Later sounds possible,” I said.

He was quiet for a beat.

“I'd like that.”

June came to my apartment with soup at ten. She had checked with Mara before leaving the church hall. I opened the door and held her until the soup grew cool.

“They can't take my voice,” she said into my shoulder.

“No.”

“Or your name.”

We ate on the couch with the television off.

The next afternoon, Nila called about the theater's first audit findings. Martin had billed Kells for “placement services” each time a ceiling disappeared from a protected room.

The payments had gone to an account he controlled.

“There's more,” she said. “The accountant found the buyer's deposit. Dorian signed for it three days before he brought you the sample.”