Cry for the Strangers Page 0,101

and the place was wrecked. Both rooms. And Rebecca’s pottery. And my paintings.”

“Shit,” Chip cursed softly. “How bad is it?”

“The pottery and the paintings are completely ruined. As for the gallery, you’ll know better than I. Frankly, I didn’t take time to really look. I walked down here as soon as I saw what had happened.”

“You walked?”

“I was so mad I could hardly see straight, and I didn’t even think about getting into the car. If I had, I probably would have run it into a tree.” Then he frowned slightly. “Where’s Whalen?”

“Not here. He’s over to Doc Phelps’ this morning.”

“Well, I’m just as glad he isn’t here,” Glen said wearily. “I probably would have blown it completely if I’d had to talk to him. Is there more coffee there?”

“Help yourself.” He waited, chewing thoughtfully on his lips, while Glen refilled his cup. When Glen was seated once more, Chip spoke again. “Can I ask you a question?” he said.

“Sure,” Glen said tonelessly.

“Did you come over here to report what happened, or to yell at Harney Whalen?”

The question caught Glen by surprise and he had to think about it. “I don’t honestly know,” he said finally. “Both, I guess. I had to report it, of course, but I was going to to vent some anger on Whalen too.” He smiled weakly. “I guess it’s just as well he isn’t here.”

“I guess so,” Chip agreed. “You about ready to go over to the gallery? I’ll make out a report there, and we can decide what to do next.”

“Do? What’s there to do? Everything’s ruined.”

“Maybe,” Chip agreed. “Maybe not. Let’s go find out.”

“Holy Christ,” Chip said as the two of them entered the gallery. “It looks like someone let a bear loose in here.”

He pulled out his notebook and began writing down a description of the damage. When he was finished in the front room he went into the back and repeated the process.

“They came in here,” he said, starting at the back door. It hung grotesquely, one hinge completely torn loose from the frame.

He made a few more notes, then put the notebook away. Glen was staring at the shreds of the paintings, his face expressionless.

“Is there any way to repair them?” Chip asked.

Glen shook his head. “You can fix a small tear sometimes, but nothing like this,” he said tonelessly.

Chip couldn’t bear the look in Glen’s eyes. “I don’t know if it’ll do any good,” he said, “since there doesn’t seem to be anything to sell. But we can fix the gallery.”

“It’s all broken up,” Glen said dully.

“Not that bad. We’ll have to get new glass, but the cases can be put back together again.” He smiled briefly, then added, “It isn’t as if the shelves haven’t been torn off the walls before.”

“It will just happen again,” Glen pointed out.

“Not if we put in an alarm system. And not if we find out who did it.”

“Oh, come on, Chip. We’re not going to find out who did it, and you know it.”

“We might,” Chip said. Then he decided he might as well be honest. “No, you’re right, we probably won’t. Hell, we don’t even know why they did it.”

“I guess you know what I think,” Glen said.

“Can I make a suggestion?” Chip asked, deliberately ignoring Glen’s comment. Without waiting for an answer, he went on. “Take the day off. Go home and tell Rebecca what happened, then decide what the two of you want to do. We’ll start cleaning up tomorrow. I’m off duty.”

“Okay. The mess has to be cleaned up anyway.” Glen’s face clouded as a memory came back to him. “Rebecca said something was going to happen,” he said. “Just this morning, when we got up. She said something’s happened or is about to happen. I guess she was right.”

They had walked from the back room into the gallery, but suddenly Glen returned to the workroom. A minute later he was back.

“They didn’t get everything,” he said triumphantly. “There was one picture I put away and they didn’t find it.”

Chip looked curiously at him as Glen turned the picture he held. It was the canvas depicting Sod Beach and the weathered old house with the strange presence in the window.

“I’m glad it was this one,” Glen said. “I put it away because I was saving it. But you’d better take it now, Chip. It might not be around much longer.”

“Take it? What are you talking about?”

“I was going to give it to you the day we finished the