Chapter 2
“Syid Latro,” she smiled in greeting to the museum’s director as she stepped through the back entrance of the building. “It’s wonderful to see you again!” she said in halting Arabic. She probably slaughtered the language, but she tried to learn new words every day and listened intently to others speak, hoping to improve her accent.
“Yaftaqid Lafayette!” the director greeted, using the formal and unmarried title instead of her first name, as she’d asked him to do repeatedly. But Mr. Latro, the museum director, was very old school and preferred the more formal way of speaking. Especially to unmarried women. Faye suspected that the more formal title created a barrier between them, reminding the man that she was unmarried and should be treated differently.
Unlike the daring Zantar, she thought. Even thinking his name sent a shiver of awareness throughout her body.
“You are cold,” Mr. Latro replied, obviously sensing her shiver. “I will adjust the air conditioning for you.”
The air conditioning in the building was set to “frigid”, but Faye didn’t want him to change it. “No, please don’t,” she urged as she followed the man through the hallways. “You’re already doing so much to help me. I don’t want to be a bother.”
Mr. Latro waved aside her objections. “It is not a bother. And your work is very important. You are bringing attention to one of my favorite artists, a man who has been brutally neglected by the rest of the world. The renaissance ‘masters’,” he said, practically spitting with that last word, “should not be the only artists of that time period to be revered by the world. We have many artists that deserve accolades as well, and you will be the impetus that generates interest in our beautiful paintings.”
Faye smiled, warmed by his words. “I’m honored that you think my doctoral dissertation will have that large of an impact.”
“You are beautiful and young and enthusiastic. Your dissertation will bring this artists’ work the recognition that he deserves, and the world will understand the beauty of Syid Tismona’s work.”
“I hope that you’re right. He’s a brilliant artist. I want people to recognize his genius.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I just hope that I can figure it out and back up my theories.”
Mr. Latro bowed slightly. “You will bring new heights of understanding to the symbolism in his works. I have faith in your abilities!”
Faye was warmed by his confidence. “Bring it on,” she laughed. “Where are these paintings you were able to find in the storage areas?”
Mr. Latro waved her towards another section of the museum and Faye looked around at the tall shelves in a warehouse-like area. Here there were no smooth walls or discreet lighting which one would find in the tourist area of the museum. This was an industrial-looking room filled with wooden crates, cardboard boxes, and metal shelving that could hold tons of precious works of art off of the ground and out of danger. It was all categorized with computer generated bar codes and protected by armed guards walking through the aisles. Their steps echoed along the concrete floors as Mr. Latro led the way to a walled off room.
Faye had thought that he’d lead her to some type of conference room. But the door he pushed through was an elaborate, high-tech barrier that led to a space filled with the expensive equipment used to preserve old documents and care for precious paintings and other works of art.
Along the back wall, leaned up without frames, were ten new paintings, all of them appearing to be by her Tismona artist.
“Syid Latro!” Faye gasped, putting a hand to her chest as she surveyed the latest finds. “These are…beautiful!”
She moved quickly over to the paintings, her eyes scanning each image with reverence. “Magnificent!” she whispered when she’d reached the fifth one, but kept on walking, her feet not making a sound in this room. Obviously, vibrations were controlled in this area in order to protect artistic mediums that could crack or shatter in the wrong environment.
Mr. Latro agreed, but Faye was already absorbed in the content of the paintings, her eyes roaming over the canvases, taking in the details. Faye pulled her laptop out of her cotton bag, opening it up to start taking notes. Her cell phone was next as she took pictures of each new painting, changing the angles and shifting her focus to get more details so she could refer back to the pictures later.
“Set your alarm.”
Faye looked up, startled by the man’s words. “I’m sorry?”
Mr. Latro laughed softly, shaking his head. “You were late leaving here last week. Which I suspect meant that you were late getting to your next job?”
Faye groaned, remembering her mad rushes from the museum to the hotel to start her shift several days last week. Nodding her agreement, she clicked off of the camera app and pulled up her alarm. “Yes. You’re right.”
The director smiled beatifically at Faye, his hands clasped in front of him. “I thought so. You lose yourself in your work and that’s a good thing. You will be happy for the rest of your life.”
Faye smiled as she pressed several buttons. “Thank you for thinking of the alarm,” she said, setting the time that would alert her to pack up in ninety minutes. She needed to get to the hotel in two hours in order start her shift on time today. Without her job at the hotel, she’d be seriously short of cash!
Her time doing research was only for another month, she told herself as she stuffed her phone back into her cotton bag, then pulled out a magnifying glass to continue her examination.
There was something different about these paintings. Faye bent lower, trying to figure out what that difference was. The colors were similar to the others by this artist that she’d studied. But…? All of the colors were the same. The image quality, brush strokes, signature and every other technical aspect of these paintings was similar. So they weren’t done by a different artist.
So what was different?
She took several more pictures, focusing on the smaller details. In one painting, there was an apple held in a woman’s hand, an odd looking chicken in the background of another, a glass of wine, a candle stick, an oil lamp, the edge of a window, the trees that seemed to be swaying in the breeze…everything was similar and yet…everything was different.
Carefully, Faye bent over, her magnifying glass in one hand while she wrote down thoughts with her other hand. Not notes so much as just scribbles, thoughts, impressions. She’d write all of these thoughts onto individual sticky notes and put each one up on the wall of her tiny apartment. Once everything was on the wall, she could move the sticky notes around, sort of like puzzle pieces that needed to be twisted and turned to find the right place to be added. Once she had a bigger picture, then she could hopefully make sense of these latest revelations.
She was just about to move on to the next painting when an alarm sounded. Faye jerked backwards, startled by the shrill sound in the silent room.
Glancing over at her phone, Faye stifled a frustrated snarl. She didn’t want to go to the hotel today. She wanted to stay here and examine these paintings! She wanted to figure out what was different about these images!
And yet, they would still be here tomorrow, she thought. Yes, she would come back tomorrow for more research, spend more time with her mystery!
With a resentful sigh, Faye stuffed her laptop away and shoved her notebook and cell phone back into her bag. With a flip, she slung the cotton bag over her shoulder, patted her pockets to make sure she had her keys, then glanced at the time. Unfortunately, even with the alarm, she’d still have to hurry in order to reach her job at the hotel on time. Giving the paintings one last glance, she turned and headed out of the museum.