An Exhibit of Madness Read online

  AN EXHIBIT OF MADNESS

  (Previous title: Portrait of a Murder)

  A Dulcie Chambers Museum Mystery

  by Kerry J Charles

  EDMUND+OCTAVIA

  THE DULCIE CHAMBERS MUSEUM MYSTERIES

  by

  Kerry J Charles

  An Exhibit of Madness (Previous Title: Portrait of a Murder)

  From the Murky Deep

  The Fragile Flower

  A Mind Within

  Last of the Vintage

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  AN EXHIBIT OF MADNESS (Previous title: Portrait of a Murder) Copyright © 2015 Kerry J Charles. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at kerryjcharles.com or Edmund+Octavia Publishing at EdmundOctavia.com.

  Cover Image: Street Scene, Santiago de Cuba

  Winslow Homer, 1885

  (Image reversed for stylistic purposes)

  This image is in the public domain.

  ISBN-10: 0-9894576-4-8

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9894576-4-4

  Edmund+Octavia, Falmouth, Maine, USA

  This book is dedicated

  to the one who convinced me

  to bring it back.

  LYT

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Preview: FROM THE MURKY DEEP

  About this Series

  About the Author

  We were created

  to look at one another,

  weren't we.

  ― Edgar Degas

  CHAPTER 1

  Joshua Harriman paused in the foyer of the Maine Museum of Art, holding the outer door open to the cool spring air. The street was quiet, not uncommon for a Sunday evening. He waited until he had completely collected his thoughts. Joshua Harriman was, if nothing else, a deliberate man.

  Through the inner door he could hear the music of a swing band, the lively conversations of partygoers, and the pop of a champagne cork. He smiled. Ready. He straightened his silk bow tie and swept through the inner door.

  A tray of bubbling glasses greeted him. Accepting one appreciatively, he sipped it while sliding off his overcoat and handing it to the waiter. He scanned the noisy room. The opening was indeed a success. Dulcie had done a perfect job.

  Silver rays from the moon that had flickered across the ocean now filtered through the skylights into the cavernous great hall filled with people. The paintings lining the soft gray walls were bathed by gentle spotlights casting a golden glow. The room seemed to shimmer and move with both silver and gold light vying for the honor of most ethereal. The artwork on the walls and Dr. Dulcinea Chambers were the only still, serene elements.

  Dulcie, did not feel serene at all. She only stood still in a futile attempt to keep her mind from reeling. She had worked on several gallery openings, and had attended many more, but this was the first that was solely her responsibility. It was her debut as a chief curator, and she did not take this lightly. Her hand shook as she gulped her champagne. She suppressed a sneeze brought on by the bubbles.

  Across the room, Joshua Harriman caught her eye and raised his glass slightly, a subtle toast to her success. She waved and, after several moments of wedging her way between the bodies, joined him.

  “Dulcie!” he exclaimed and gave her a kiss on each cheek. “You look lovely, dear. Nervous? No, don’t be. The opening is fabulous. A gala in the grand style!” He held up his glass and clinked it against hers.

  She breathed a long, low sigh of relief. His compliment seemed genuine. “Thank you, sir,” she replied. “I’m glad we’ve been able to get so many people here. It is early, yet, in the season.”

  Harriman chuckled. “Yes, but that’s exactly why we have so many! They’re all eager to come out of hibernation,” he explained, then glanced down at his nearly empty glass. “Tell me, did you have any trouble locating this marvelous bubbly? I only offered it as a suggestion, a request of sorts. I know you were so busy with all the other arrangements….”

  Dulcie laughed, hoping that it would mask her anxiety. “No, don’t worry. I had one of the volunteers track it down. I did nothing but sign the order form.” She took another gulp from her own glass. “I must say, it was a very good recommendation!”

  “Well, it’s the little things that matter,” Harriman said while casting his eye around the room once again. After he had satisfied himself that Dulcie had everything under control, his methodical mind had already turned to the next task at hand.

  He added, almost as an afterthought, “I’ve learned over the years that the champagne is the key. It must be good enough so as not to offend, yet not so good that the guests feel we have too much money. Mark my word, Dulcie, with this champagne you’ll be receiving plenty of contributions tonight!”

  “I hope so. We certainly do need them,” she replied.

  Harriman set his now empty glass on a passing tray with one hand and swiftly lifted off a second with the other. “Is that my brother over there? Pardon me Dulcie, but I must have a word with him. We’ll talk again later?”

  “Of course,” Dulcie said, smiling at him. ‘I’ve been dismissed,’ she thought. It wasn’t a rudeness on Joshua Harriman’s part, Dulcie knew that. He had simply moved on to the next task on the list. That’s what made Joshua Harriman so successful. He always had a list.

  Dulcie was relieved by his departure, however. Under most circumstances, she enjoyed his company. At the moment though, she needed to focus on other matters. Graciously chatting with people that she did not know came at an enormous effort for Dulcie, and this evening would require a great deal of it. She felt exhausted already. “He doesn’t realize that the champagne was the simplest part,” she whispered.

  As Chairman of the board of directors for the museum, as well as the museum’s acting director, Joshua Harriman exuded the confidence of a lifetime among beautiful things. Dulcie watched him wind his way through the crowd, easily joining conversations, offering friendly comments that made people laugh. Dulcie had awkwardly wedged her way between people to cross the room; Harriman seemed to swirl through them. Until he reached his brother at last on the other side. He gave the man a mock punch in the arm by way of a greeting, which was returned. “And there the resemblance ends,” murmured Dulcie.

  She turned her attention back to the festivities, trying to convince herself that everything was perfect. ‘Except my hair,’ she thought. As usual she had planned to the final second, while completely neglecting the time she would need to get herself ready. ‘Thankfully, the chignon is never out of style,’ she thought smoothing back the few dark strands that had fallen across her cheek.

  “So you’ve pulled it off, Dr. Chambers!” The voice spoken directly into Dulcie’s ear from behind made her jump. Champagne now dripped from her fingers although somehow she managed to keep it from running down the front of her dress. She growled and turned in annoyance to h
er brother, Dan. “Great party!” he exclaimed, grinning.

  No one could ever be annoyed with Dan for long. He had the kind of face that always seemed to be smiling even when he wasn’t, as though he knew a great joke that he was just about to share with you, if only you would stay with him long enough to listen. Dulcie felt her entire body relax. She hadn’t realized how tense she had been.

  “Thank you! In spite of the fact that you almost ruined my dress, I’ll admit that I really needed to hear that. Of course, I only organized. It's Mr. Harriman’s money that actually makes it great.”

  “Never hurts to be loaded,” Dan replied somewhat wistfully.

  “That’s an understatement,” Dulcie countered.

  Dan sighed and shook his head. “Is he Old Money or nouveau riche?”

  Dulcie laughed. It was a good question. “The latter, but you’d never know it from his appearance. He has that tweedy, old-leather, ‘I’ve always owned a tux’ look nailed, don’t you think?”

  Dan nodded, watching Joshua Harriman talking animatedly with his brother across the room. “Yup. ‘Course the silver hair doesn’t hurt the whole picture either. Looks like he was born to hold a champagne flute.” Dan glanced down at his own glass that he held by the stem in his calloused hand somewhat awkwardly. “Me? I was born to hold a beer bottle.”

  Dulcie couldn’t resist. “Why, Dan, you’ve moved up in the world! Last I’d heard you only drank from cans!”

  “Very funny,” Dan muttered. He was still analyzing Joshua Harriman across the room. “So how’d Old Harriman get all his money if he wasn’t born to it?”

  Dulcie smiled. “The usual. A lot of hard work and a little luck. He told me that he started importing when he was only seventeen. He had won a trip to Italy in the 1960’s through an essay contest. While he was there, he saw a carved backgammon set that he loved. He didn’t have the money for it at the time, but he did take down the name and address of the person who made them. When he got back home he wrote to them, but they’d only ship him ten at a time, so he saved his money then bought all ten.”

  “Let me guess what happened next. He sold off the nine that he didn’t want at a lovely profit.”

  “Exactly. And so began the import business. He opened a little shop first in Portland, then in Boston. After that he started catalog sales in the 80’s, then internet sales, and it mushroomed from there.”

  “What a way to finance some great travel!” said Dan.

  “Absolutely. He has an eye for things. I suppose that’s why he’s into art as well. He just has a sixth sense for anything beautiful, interesting, and usually expensive. I’m glad I bumped into him when I went to Italy last year. Funny to think I would probably never have this job right now if I’d flown there instead of sailed across the Atlantic.”

  “That’s true,” said Dan. “A twist of fate, and all because you don’t like to fly.”

  “I knew it would work to my advantage someday!” Dulcie laughed. “Maybe Mr. Harriman’s luck is rubbing off on me. Karma and all that, you know?”

  Dan snorted. “Way to metaphysical for me, Dulcie,” he replied. “I think you make your luck. It’s called ‘positioning yourself for the best advantage.’ Think about it. Where were you going in the first place? Italy. You have a lot better chance of bumping into an art-loving multi-gazillionaire going there than going to, oh let’s say Siberia, for example.”

  “But if I had flown on a plane instead of taking the ship, I mean…” Dulcie began to argue.

  “If you’d flown first-class you could have just as easily bumped into someone like him,” her brother countered.

  “Dan, I can’t afford fist class. So I think my original point stands.” They looked at each other through narrowed eyes. Then they both laughed. Friendly contention had been their mode of communication for years.

  Dulcie changed the subject. “What do you think of the new exhibit?” She asked, gesturing around them.

  “The what?” Dan asked with a furrowed brow.

  She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t even glanced at it, have you. Really, Dan, look around. Isn’t it fantastic? We’ve managed to get a work of Winslow Homer’s from every one of his major locations except Cuba. We have Paris, Quebec, the Adirondacks, of course Maine…”

  “Yes, Dulcie, I read the invitation.”

  “Really? You surprise me! All right, fine. I won’t bore you.”

  “You do have me intrigued now though, I admit, so I’ll ask. What happened to Cuba?”

  Dulcie smiled. “Well, hopefully that’s the ace up our sleeve. There’s one up for auction next Friday at Christie's in New York. It’s just a small watercolor sketch, but it would be the final piece for the exhibit. Don’t tell anyone yet, but I’m going to make an announcement later tonight that the museum will be bidding on it, and then request donations. I’m hoping to see a lot of checkbooks. You’d better have brought yours!”

  “You, dear sister, are ruthless,” Dan interjected.

  “Hey, it’s a tough business. You gotta do what you gotta do,” Dulcie concluded.

  “True enough. And right now what I ‘gotta do’ as go introduce myself to that stunning blonde over there,” Dan replied. “Who is that?”

  Dulcie turned and looked in the direction where her brother’s eyes were now glued. The woman that he watched had blonde hair upswept in a French twist, catlike green eyes, and a body-skimming dress that shimmered in silver. “Oh, her,” Dulcie said flatly.

  Dan laughed. “That good, huh? Guess she has a stunning personality to match?”

  Dulcie frowned. “You could say that. She’s our benefactor’s niece, Alicia Harriman. Her father is Joshua Harriman’s older brother.” Dulcie nodded toward the two man still chatting across the room.

  “She looks more like her uncle than her father,” Dan said, unfastening his eyes from Alicia for long enough to glance over at the two Harriman brothers.

  “Yes, but don’t let that fool you. She does not have Uncle Joshua’s good nature. Alicia Harriman is very pleased with Alicia Harriman. Period. You’ll get nowhere with her.”

  “Says who?” Dan demanded.

  “Says me,” Dulcie quipped. “Your business may be doing well, Dan, but Alicia wants a lot more money than you could offer her.”

  “Who says I’ll offer her money?” Dan asked slyly, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “You’re pathetic. Go ahead and introduce yourself. I’ll watch. You’ll fall flat on your face,” Dulcie snickered.

  “Fine!” he declared. Dan grinned at his sister, then sidled off in the opposite direction from Alicia Harriman, toward the hors d'oeuvre table.

  Dulcie scrutinized Alicia. “I can’t believe I’m stuck with her for three more months,” she murmured. She glanced down at her own dress. It was her standard ‘curator black’ as she called it, a simple sleeveless sheath in shantung silk, paired with plain black pumps. Her gold chain and diamond stud earrings were the only sparkle in an otherwise traditional outfit. ‘I guess I am traditional, more or less,’ she thought. ‘I don’t want to be the center of attention. This night is about the exhibit, not about Dulcie Chambers. Or Alicia Harriman, for that matter.’ Dulcie unconsciously smoothed the silk over her petite frame and stood up straighter.

  Dulcie knew that Alicia would be a handful during the months to come, and, unfortunately in this case, she had Joshua Harriman to thank for that as well. The man could recommend a good champagne, but his choice of employees left a bit to be desired. ‘Although I suppose he has little control over who his relations turn out to be,’ Dulcie thought.

  Alicia Harriman had begun working at the museum in February as part of a new internship program suggested by her uncle. He had donated an endowment that would fund six-month internships for two graduate students studying art history each year. The choice would be up to Dulcie and a committee of museum officials as to the students selected, except for this first term. Mr. Harriman had requested that he be allowed to choose the recipients of the first
two scholarships. Since it was his money, no one could refuse him. Harriman chose his niece, Alicia, as well as a young man named Tom Cole. After meeting Alicia, however, Dulcie wished that she had been allowed a bit more input.

  Tom was another matter. She glanced around the room looking for him and saw him at the hors d'oeuvre table talking with her brother. Tom looked as he had in her first meeting with him: a bit rumpled. Dulcie had learned that he was from a hard-working family of lobstermen, the youngest of three brothers. The others had never even graduated from high school, instead dropping out to help with their father’s lobstering business. Tom, however, was different. In his interview he told Dulcie that his mother had cleaned houses to send him to college, because he “had a wicked head for learnin’,” as she had put it. He was quiet, yet had a biting, dry wit. ‘Quintessential Yankee,’ thought Dulcie.

  Dulcie had asked Mr. Harriman why he had chosen Tom. Harriman explained that he had met Tom while he was working at the local yacht club where Harriman moored his sailboat. Tom was a launch driver there and, while ferrying Mr. Harriman back and forth to his boat during the summer, had unwittingly impressed Harriman with an unusually large knowledge of art. “He’s just the sort of person that deserves this kind of big break to jump-start his career,” Harriman had said. “It could be a life-changer for him.” Dulcie had agreed.

  Both interns had been assigned to work on the Homer exhibit, and Dulcie had to admit each had shown talent although Tom certainly worked harder than Alicia. The exhibit had opened on schedule during the second week of May. Dulcie was very keen on having it open before Memorial Day, the traditional beginning of summer in Maine, and before the auction at Christie's.