Designed To Deceive. Can Two Cats Unscramble The Crime When The Clues About Art Are In Rhyme?

By Dick Harrison

A horrific murder in a prosperous, Gulfside community forces a retired art rep into a business where billions of dollars change hands in a hidden marketplace for stolen treasures, fakes, and forgeries. For Ed Lear and his two sidekick Siamese sleuths there is evil in abundance – evil people, evil organizations, evil regimes.
This is a different sort of mystery. No dirty dialogue. No pulse-pounding porn spelled out in four letter words. If you are saying to yourself, “OH - - - - this isn't my kind of book! - nothing here to get me to turn a page for the next string of polysyllable profanity, graphic groping or disgusting description,” I'd encourage you to read on and let your imagination paint pictures that make raunchy written recitation pale by comparison.
If your favorite pet is a pit bull trained by the 'what's his name' football star, just try to ignore the cats. Given most pussies' ability to sense who likes them and who doesn't, I'm pretty sure Zen and Zoe would ignore you, too. Concentrate on deciphering the threatening, limerick word puzzles and the twists and turns in a mystery that will unravel like a ball of yarn batted around by a couple of smart felines. Pit your intuition against the instincts of a pair of discerning feline art experts, and you will collect the reward for recovering art masterpieces worth millions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dick Harrison
• Release date: May 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370333790

Dick Harrison

As an independent art representative for more than 20 years, I sold hundreds of thousands of dollars of my own artwork along with that of other artists and fine art publishers to interior designers architects and galleries throughout Florida. I began my adult work life teaching art in public schools before moving into advertising and promotion, eventually owning an ad agency specializing in motion picture advertising. Circumstances beyond my control led me to become an independent “rep” selling my own fine art, along with limited-edition prints, reproductions and posters for major fine art publishers and individual artists. Although I knew almost nothing about selling art when I started was able to learn from the art professionals I called upon. Their needs shaped my enterprise. When I found a need within my buyer community I worked to find a way – and the proper art – to fill it. My art career put me in touch with some of the finest and most creative people one could ever help to know. Now retired, I'm a writer, artist, cartoonist, podcaster and blogger on all things artistic, ironic, visual or written and mostly humorous.

Book preview

"'Masterpiece' - here today, ENOG MOTOROW

- Art that will cost you more than just SOWORR.

It hasn't been DISSEM

But I can't SISTER

Calling attention to art that we 'ROBROW.'"

As Ed Lear was about to leave the Pear And Mason art gallery, Kip Mason, one of the owners, stopped him abruptly before he reached the door. Kip held up a scrap of crumpled notebook paper for him to see. What do you make of this? he asked.

He knew Ed had been an art rep for many years and would be more than a little interested in the cryptic message it contained.

I found this note slipped under the front door when I came in this morning, he said. It's probably some sort of prank and means nothing but considering it refers to art and a masterpiece, it certainly caught my attention.

Ed peered at the paper and was surprised to see a handwritten poem. He read it aloud so his cats could hear. Zen sat perched on his shoulder and little Zoe stood quietly beside him.

This is some kind of puzzle, Ed surmised. It looks as if unscrambling the words would give us a rhyme of some kind. Have you unscrambled it? I've no idea what to make of it."

I have and wish I hadn't, Kip replied. It's not a good message!

Ed scanned it intently one more time. Oh, oh – not good at all! Is anything missing from the gallery?

Not a thing, Kip responded. If there were, the rhyme would make more sense.

Is it all right if I hold on to this for a few days? Ed asked. I've been reading about how art theft is exploding. It fails to garner the media play that other kinds of thievery do but one statistic I read reported that in dollar value, stolen art outstrips all other property crimes."

Is that right? Kip asked.

"It sure is. While I was on the road, there were a number of times when I was approached by some distinctly unsavory characters hoping I would help them fence bogus art or pieces I suspected were stolen.

"If I were into that monkey business, the potential profits would have been tempting. I still get an occasional call from some so-called dealers that I believe have underworld connections but have managed to stay just this side of the law between business and money laundering. For whom I can only imagine. I saw just the tip of the iceberg as a small-time art salesman but had I taken the bait I could have been drawn into a world of brutal greed and millions of dollars in profits. In that world, there is no concern for beauty.

"The thieves only care about the bucks a painting can turn because the money could be used to fund everything from international banking to gun-running and even terrorist activities. The big guns in the illegal art trade from theft to forgery are willing to kill or risk being killed for the monies available by engaging in the undercover profession they chose.

But this on the paper was obviously torn from a common lined notebook that any kid might carry in his backpack. It's probably just a prank, as you guessed.

Ed and Kip had become friends over the years since Ed had guided many a buyer his way or had purchased a piece on his own to sell at a profit to one of his clients. It had happened so often that the gallery willingly provided him with either a discount on his purchases or a thank you commission in return.

In addition to handling only the supreme examples of art in their specialty, the owners of Pear And Mason were extensively knowledgeable art connoisseurs and maintained a huge, valuable collection of auction house records dating back years. They also kept special catalogs, which Ed had been given access to whenever he was researching the value of a piece of art that one of his clients required more information about.

Ed lived in Ringland, Florida, a lovely little town nestled along the Gulf coast. Over time, it became a retirement community favored by the rich, almost rich, famous and infamous. Many of them lived in multi-million dollar homes and condominiums overlooking the magnificent beach and the view westward across the turquoise water. A drive along Hermosa Key revealed the ultra high-dollar destination for those with unlimited resources. Those residents poured their money and imagination into creating one-of-a-kind, eye-catching mansions, determined to outdo whatever was built next to them.

Given Ed's specialty of representing artists and collectors of the unusual, it was the perfect place for him. As a modestly well-to-do, middle-aged art rep, now semi-retired, he enjoyed living there along with his two Siamese cats, a male named Zen and his sister, Zoe.

The town's most prominent citizen, Joseph Moneybags Ringland, spent his lifetime collecting fine art and antiquities, along with some that turned out to be not so fine but were considered valuable and cutting edge at the time he purchased them. When he died, he left his huge gulf side home and all that it contained to the city. It was truly a legacy that was highly valued.

He left not only his former residence, which sat in superb tree-lined surroundings but also dozens of sculptures that fit perfectly into the setting. And of course, he left his impressive collection of art. Over the years, the best of what he had purchased, thanks to the knowledgeable eyes of a number of eminent curators, blended well with a distinctive collection of well-chosen acquisitions after his demise. It had now become a world famous museum: The Ringland Collection Of Art And Antiquities.

In addition to Ringland's world famous museum, it's downtown area boasted an exceptional Gallery Row of commercial for-profit art galleries. They sat side-by-side except for a number of charming small restaurants, a quality jewelry store and a couple of interior design studios. An art lover could spend a day just walking from one gallery to the next, have a bite to eat to break the sequence and then continue on to view the ever-changing exhibits at the myriad of galleries.

Tourists, collectors and new residents who frequented the galleries intent on finding just the right piece of art for a new home, condo or office kept those places busy. Some specialized in unusual styles or genres, while others carried extremely varied extensions of the owners' individual tastes. Several specialized in art created during particular time periods, such as nothing after 1900.

There was also a co-op gallery run by excellent local artists, who exhibited their paintings and took turns manning the gallery as part of their commitment to having a place to show and sell their work.

Ed was a frequent visitor to the museum and Gallery Row. He often took along one or both of his cats. Zoe had learned to walk on a leash. Zen, on the other hand, was not as compliant so Ed carried him underarm or more often the cat perched on his shoulder. Once inside a gallery where he knew the owners, and he knew most of them, he would put Zen on the floor to walk beside him so they could intently examine the art on the walls.

At times Ed lifted the cats up and held them close to the surface of a piece of art – close but out of paw's reach – so they could check out a detail as closely as he did. Some gallery-goers were amused as he pointed out to the cats what was of particular interest, just as if he were talking to a human companion. Ed and the cats themselves had become a subject of conversation and sometimes jest around the tables in the Gallery Row restaurants.

For the most part, the gallery owners were pleased about the talk surrounding the crazy art lover and his feline companions. It called attention to the art in their galleries, and those cat conversations often prompted potential customers to visit a particular art shop to examine a specific piece more carefully themselves. Once they pored over the art more meticulously and recalled what Ed had pointed out to Zen or Zoe, they often decided it was a piece worth owning.

Yes, Ed and his cats had become the talk of the town, especially after a story appeared in the Feature section of the local newspaper, Ringland's Daily Brush entitled When An Art Lover Kitties-up. The feline brother and sister were purchased from a cat breeder that cross-bred just enough Persian into her line to produce standard meezers. This type of cat featured a fluffy tail and the typical body type favored until recently when exaggerated angular bodies and long rat-like faces became the hot cats of their breed.

Zen, the larger of the two, had a darker silky coat and Zoe, tiny except for a tail that matched Zen's, was almost pure white with darker paws and muzzle, and a winsome kitten-like appearances. They were fine art in the cat world in the same way real masterpieces, exquisitely created and easy to live with, held their value. This in comparison to the new and far more expensive felines fancied and snapped up by those wealthy and prideful enough to claim they owned the very best of everything, even down to the pussy cats they showed off to their friends.

And their art was no different. These wealthy folks collected only cutting edge, over-priced examples of what they considered the future of art. This included over-sized paintings of pop bottles and soup spoons, motion picture sex symbols who had gone to glory in an overdose of awareness opening God- knows-what, as well as gaudy, derogatory images of everyone from Einstein to Mother Theresa and Jesus.

One of Ed's favorite places to frequently check out its art was Pear And Mason because of its exceptionally fine gallery. The gallery owners specialized in pre-20th-century works. In every way, it was extraordinary, not just for the art but also for the manner in which the works were displayed. The exquisite gold framing of a particular period suited the time when the art was created. This careful planning accented and focused a visitor's eye on the impeccably actualized paintings that the gallery was known to show.

Because of his years in the art trade, Ed found it easy to determine high caliber art and to a remarkable extent, so could Zen and Zoe. After all, the cats had lived around fine art all their lives. Ed and his felines avoided the aggrandized works and concentrated on what they recognized as phenomenal talent, even when a piece did not ride the crest of pent-up popularity.

The cats were not always as gentle when conveying their opinions of the utterly outrageous as their master might be. In one instance, Ed brought home a couple of photos of one piece of elegant new art and the genius who painted it. He then proceeded to lay the photos on the floor for the cats to observe. He was mystified when they circled the photos warily, sniffing and voicing what passed for growls from a couple of otherwise lovable kitties.

Ed then left the room to take an extended phone call from one of his clients who still contacted him before laying out any cash to find or learn about a piece of art or historical item that he was considering. When he returned to the room where he had left the cats with the photos on the floor, Ed was shocked to see that Zoe had clawed the photos of the art into scraps and Zen had carrird the photograph of the genius who painted it into the litter box that Ed kept filled with pine scented cat litter.

He sat down in his favorite overstuffed chair, and both cats jumped up for a pat. Zen leaped onto his shoulder, a marvelous spot from which to observe the tastefully decorated room. Zoe curled up in his lap, first looking up at his face and then back at what was left of the photos on the floor. Ed returned the glances and said aloud to ensure the cats understood: My opinion exactly!

When he looked down at Zoe, he could not help noticing his waistline, once a good deal slimmer, was beginning to show signs of the good life and great food he enjoyed since he was no longer on the road visiting clients and selling art.

One day as Ed and the cats were again browsing in Pear And Mason; he was especially drawn to a lovely painting of a young woman seated on a balcony. She was focusing intently on the embroidery she held on her lap. The exceptional work was the centerpiece of the current selection of art on display. Kip sauntered out of his office behind the showroom. He looked quite slim and handsome in his pin- striped, three-piece suit. His fashion sense vastly contrasted the rumpled, touristy attire of many of the gallery visitors. He immediately spotted Ed with the cats standing in front of the painting.

A beautiful piece of work, isn't it? Kip commented as he drew near them. We just got it on consignment from the owner, who recently moved to Hermosa Key. Don't ask me his name. He wants no publicity even though this painting is one of the finest we have ever been privileged to handle.

It surely is a treasure! Ed replied. "My guess is French, created by one of the talented women who studied under some of the prominent male painters of the day. They held such a tight grip on the Academy that it sparked the Impressionist rebellion when those masterworks were routinely turned down and never exhibited. Maybe a student of Bouguereau or one of the other popular traditional painters. They taught some exceptional women at a time when gender was as much a deterrent to popularity as it still is in some professions today.

Kip slipped a hand into his pocket and jingled some change.

It's a pity, Ed continued. The teachers became the rich and famous in their day, then fell out of fashion until relatively recently when their art was rediscovered. Works they created are now selling for millions at auction. The paintings by their female students are still very much undervalued, but that's changing too. For instance, this picture showing such a lovely young lady should, with your help, find a ready buyer who would hold onto it for a few years and then sell it at a huge profit.

Ed, you're right on all counts, Kip said. It's so good that I'm tempted to buy it myself and do what you say. However, I suspect that the owner has a larger collection of great art and I'd like to sell this one for a lot more than I can afford to lay out. The commission would be substantial but it would be only a fraction of what might be available for the gallery if we could establish a relationship with this person. It is possible that he might allow us access to some of the other works I believe are in that mansion he just bought for millions - with cash as I understand it.

I see so little of your partner, Elmer Pear, Ed noted. He must be pleased as well.

Elmer is happy when I'm happy and vice versa, Kip responded. "As you know, it's almost as if we operate two separate businesses. His specialty and primary interest lie in contemporary art, especially Russian and German avant-garde painters. Even though the market for art from that period is booming, I've never cared for it. Guess I'm a traditionalist but I have always appreciated the technical expertise necessary to create something as lovely as Young Woman on a Balcony."

Kip moved toward the gallery's front counter and leaned casually on it. "Most of Elmer's sales, and he makes many of them, are carried out privately. He has acquired extensive contacts with specialized collectors and other galleries both here and abroad. That's another reason he's not in the gallery much because of the travel involved. He keeps an eye out for works that fit my specialty and has arranged consignment of some beautiful pieces that I sold through the gallery to my collectors.

"His family, which has been in this country since the overthrow of Tzar Nicholas, has maintained close ties across Europe. Elmer doesn't talk much about his family. I don't know all the details but I did learn they arrived in the U.S. with considerable wealth. When I met him, and we became friends, he already had a considerable collection of avant-garde art. In fact, it was mostly his investment that started this gallery.

Really? Ed asked.

"He and Carter Grimm, who just retired as director of the Ringland Collection Of Art And Antiquities and his Chief Conservator, Viviane Blaine, worked together closely, Kip said nodding. Elmer donated paintings to start a collection of contemporary art at the museum. Without any fanfare, the three of them managed to expand the collection through donations, purchases, and sales that Elmer was able to arrange."

Ed hesitated a moment before leaving the gallery. As the cats stirred restlessly, he turned to them with a half smile and pointed to the handsomely framed painting of the young woman. Are you sure this one is real? he asked.

******

Chapter Two

Ed stepped out onto Sabal Avenue, and into the heat and sunshine, relieved just a bit by the shade from the palms that line the boulevard. He had the crumpled note paper Kip had given him in the breast pocket of his colorful golf shirt. As he walked back to the car, Zen and Zoe were unusually restless and vocal. They kept looking back at the gallery as if they knew something he didn't.

He could feel Zen's claws prickling his back, not the usual happy rider who considered his master's shoulder personal property and perched there quietly as often as possible. Ed was happy to get into the air-conditioned car and unload the cats into the back seat where the troubled meowing continued. As he brushed back short strands of light brown hair from his sweating forehead, he noticed in the rear view mirror that Zen had jumped onto the ledge next to the rear window. Ed turned the ignition and headed toward home, while the Zen continued to stare in the direction from which they had come.

When they arrived home, he fed the cats in their individual dishes, artful ceramics he had purchased at one of the interior design studios that he visited regularly. Each dish was shaped like a pussy cat's head so as Zen and Zoe lapped up their treat an artfully painted cat face stared up at them from the bottom of the bowl. He felt relieved that the strange behavior he had witnessed earlier had finally stopped.

Whatever it was that upset these two is apparently now forgotten, Ed assumed. Nothing like a dish of tuna or a pretty bowl to eat it from to refocus their attention.

A few days after that weekend, Ed discovered that he had received a recorded message from a new friend – one he just met because of Zen and Zoe. It was from Webster Lowe, the recently appointed executive director of The Ringland Collection Of Art And Antiquities.

Their meeting occurred during one of Ed's many visits to the museum when he had taken the cats.

He had walked nonchalantly into the building with Zoe on leash and Zen perched on his shoulder, as he had often done before. A blue-uniformed guard that Ed recognized and often chatted with stopped them just inside the front door.

You can't bring those animals in here, Bill cautioned, holding up his hand. New director, you know, he added courteously.

Ed was taken aback. He was a museum member, who had served on the museum board, and attended nearly every function and special exhibition it held. He and the cats were well known to the staff, including the pudgy guard. But that was before Webster was appointed to replace the retiring director, whom Ed had known for years.

Bill, you know the cats have never caused the least bit of trouble and they enjoy the art as much as I do, Ed said. I can understand new rules can come with a new director but is there a chance that I could meet him, and introduce Zen and Zoe?

Let me give the office a call to see if he's available. Bill immediately picked up the phone on his desk and a short conversation ensued. When he hung up, he turned toward Ed and smiled.

He's on the way down and is anxious to meet you, he declared.

Webster had heard about the cats from his secretary, Janice, a middle-aged but still good looking lady. She knew off the top of her head nearly as much about the museum as her old boss, Carter. Ed had often chatted with her, even flirted a little; nothing risque but just enough to let her know he considered her attractive.

When the elevator door opened, a nattily dressed gentleman about Ed's age walked out. He spotted Ed and the cats immediately, and with a broad smile, advanced toward them.

I'm Web Lowe and I'm glad to meet you, and Zen and Zoe, he said extending a hand.