Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 50, No. 1 & 2, January/February 2005

Of course, it was awful an hour later — the sun was barely up — when Simon called Volanda and told the sleepy, bewildered girl to come to his house right away. When she arrived he sat her down at the kitchen table with his equally sleepy mother and Aunt Hannah and told them everything.

Everything except, of course, about Dorothea.

All three women began to talk at once. His mother said that at least he hadn’t committed any crime but she couldn’t believe he’d have been such an idiot. Volanda cried and said it was all her fault, and Aunt Hannah didn’t seem to know just what had happened, but if it was bad she was grateful Willie wouldn’t know about it.

Simon stood up. “I’m going over to see him now.”

His mother said, “You haven’t slept in twenty-four hours and he won’t know you now.”

“I just want to sit with him.”

Volanda stood up. “I’ll drive you.” When they were alone in the car she said, “Of course, you’ll be fired.”

“Oh, sure. Maybe worse. I have to go back there at eleven o’clock and face the board of directors. At least my boss trusted me to come home. Mr. O’Malley told him why I was there.”

Volanda started to say, “I wish I hadn’t...”

Simon touched her hair and said, “Let’s not wish anything.” Except, he thought, that Dorothea could have known Willie tried. I gave it back the best way I could. Oh, Unc, honey, what way was that?

An hour later he woke up wondering where he was. Someone was shaking him and saying it was ten thirty and if he didn’t show up at the museum they’d be madder than ever at him. It was Volanda and he was in a chair beside Willie’s bed. A tall man was standing on the other side, his finger on the frail wrist. Volanda said, “This is Dr. Francis.”

Simon struggled up and said, realizing it sounded dumb, “How is he?”

“He’s in a coma. He’ll probably slip away today or tomorrow.”

The doctor nodded to them and walked away. Volanda said, “Want me to drive you to the museum?”

“No, just back to my house for my bike. When they let me go, if they do, I’m coming back here.”

A half hour later Simon set the brake on his bike and drew a deep breath. There were only three cars in the parking lot. The museum wasn’t open on Monday, for which he was grateful; he didn’t feel like facing any of his co-workers. He walked into the office prepared for anything except what followed.

Sitting around were five people: his boss, Mr. Lucas, looking grim; Mr. O’Malley looking anxious; two old guys looking serious; and an old lady looking curious. She wore a big straw hat perched on top of frizzy white hair. One of the old guys started to talk right away.

“Sit down... er... Simon, isn’t it? This is most distressing for all of us but we’re going to do our best to be fair. Above all, none of this must get into the media. We do have to discharge you, I’m sure you know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The inventory people have been here since six o’clock this morning. There appears to be nothing missing and nothing damaged. But you did enter the museum illegally. How?”

“With this key.” Simon laid it on the desk. “It’s a copy of the one to the basement storeroom, and it’s no good now because that entrance is getting boarded up.”

Old Guy Two said, “We’re told that in addition to working in the museum you are also a student at the Ringling School of Art and that you wanted to copy a painting here.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a pause when nobody knew what to say. Then Old Guy One said, “The security doesn’t seem to be—”

“Nothing wrong with security,” Simon said quickly. “Mr. O’Malley never missed his rounds. He couldn’t have spotted me, I was too careful. There was nothing to spot.” Unless, he closed his eyes, unless you’re a certain kind of miscreant, then you’ll be spotted by a pair of eyes flashing like jewels.

The old lady, who was about the size of Aunt Hannah, began to chuckle. She said, “You must have wanted to paint that picture very much, young man.”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.”

“And museums have stuffy rules, don’t they?”

“I guess they have to.”

Mr. Lucas had been fidgeting. He said, “Well, the important thing is that none of this gets out, especially considering tonight.”

What was tonight? Simon searched his memory. Weddings were often held on the museum grounds and there was a big one tonight. Guides were needed to show guests around, but Simon hadn’t signed up because of Uncle Willie.

Mr. Lucas went on, “When you clear out your locker, leave your blazer here in the office.” He took an envelope from the desk drawer. “This is two weeks’ pay. I think you’ll agree we’re being generous considering the circumstances.”

“You sure are.” Simon stood up. “And thanks for not giving me a hard time. I loved working here and I’m sorry I loused up.”

The old lady suddenly said, “Where is it?”

Simon moved to the door. “Where’s what, ma’am?”

“The picture you painted.”

“I confiscated it, Mrs. Mills,” Mr. Lucas said hastily. “It’s right here.” He turned it around where it stood against the wall.