The Evolution of Elsa Kreiss (excerpt)
Book II in The Checkpoint, Berlin Detective Series
“What are all these red tags?” She reached out to touch one attached to a vertical canvas featuring a black figure poking a blue-eyed boy in the back with a lion’s head cane.
Paul immediately brightened. “Those indicate that the paintings have sold. Looks like not many are left untagged.”
“There are numbers on them. What do they mean?”
“They mean that I purchased them. Number twelve is my number.”
A tall gentleman with silver hair and pale blue eyes spoke from behind them. Elsa turned and looked at the man whose sharp features and long nose sat on an angular face. His mouth was a thin line and his eyes emanated both power and cold detachment. His light gray suit had a patina to it, and the only color off-setting the gray palette was a light blue shirt. Even his tie was silvery gray.
Lukas reached out his hand in the age-old gesture of greeting. “Herr Ivchencko. Are you enjoying the evening so far?”
The Russian man refused the handshake and clapped Lukas on the arm, breaking their contact quickly. He was clearly uncomfortable with courtesies. “Yes, Trommler. I am.” He eyed the canvas and then turned to Paul. “Truly amazing work, Christiansen. Would that all artists were so blessed with such talent.” Again, his gaze returned to the painting completely unaware of the trace of offense that skittered through Paul’s eyes. His ‘talent’ as the man referred to it was really a culmination, and exorcism of very bad experiences that no child should ever have to endure.
Ivchencko backed up from the painting, and his glance caught Elsa. He turned to look at her directly. “And what do you think, my dear? Is not this imagery disturbing? Does it impress upon you the deepest horror of a young boy forever lost inside a nightmare?” He waited, his cold blue eyes boring into her.
Elsa didn’t understand art, but she understood people, and this man barely hid what she knew was a love of pain. “I think it’s sad. While I’m very happy for Paul and his success, to know people are drawn to this kind of thing shows that there is a festering disease of sick minds out there. These paintings weren’t meant to be appreciated, they were meant as a means to dispel demons.” She knew she’d let her mouth fly off without her brain, but something about this Russian struck her all wrong.
Lukas coughed, then interjected quickly. “As you see, the art has struck quite a chord with our Elsa, a true sign of Christiansen’s genius with a brush.”
“Indeed.” Ivchencko’s eyes remained on Elsa longer than she was comfortable with, and she was glad when he turned back to Lukas. “I’ll expect delivery to my home by tomorrow afternoon.” He turned to Paul. “A pleasure, sir.” He nodded his head, then turned to walk away.
“I’m sorry, Paul. I didn’t mean to belittle your art.” Elsa felt contrite.
Paul began to laugh. “Not at all, Kreiss. I couldn’t have said it better myself.” He reached out and tugged a lock of her hair in a brotherly manner. “That one there…” he looked at Ivchencko’s retreating back as he walked out the front door, “is a very familiar monster.” His laughter ceased, and his eyes grew serious.
“Who is he, Lukas?” Elsa asked as her date said a prayer that the sales would still go through.
“He’s only one of the wealthiest businessmen out of Moscow. Yuri Ivchencko of Ivchencko Enterprises. He has multiple interests that include banks, mining, and shipping. He keeps a home here in Berlin, and another in Brussels. As you noted, he’s also a patron of the arts. He’s supported several exhibits here over the years, and often donates to galleries treasures he acquires from around the world.” Lukas recited the litany like a star-struck teenager. He obviously had a healthy respect for the man. Elsa just couldn’t fathom why with the bad feeling she got in just a few moments in the man’s presence.
She was saved from answering when her partner walked up. Beimer was actually wearing a suit! It was dark brown and made him look like a giant chocolate bar, but he beamed because at his side was Sigrid.
“Well, well, Hugo! Look at you.” She patted his shoulder, and then turned to give Sigrid a hug. “And don’t you lovely, Sigrid!” Sigrid, with her blonde hair and blue eyes looked like she and Hugo could be brother and sister. A sure sign they should marry and have lots of babies, she thought, since it always appeared that couples who stayed married for a long time looked alike.
“Danke, Elsa. You look gorgeous.” Sigrid eyed Elsa’s dress, a style her plump curves and fair coloring could not pull off, but she still looked beautiful in her lavender dress with chiffon skirt.
Beimer shook Paul’s hand with enthusiasm. “Thank you, again, for inviting us, Herr Christiansen. This is my beautiful date, Sigrid Wiedner.” He introduced her to Paul who proceeded to charm the socks off of her. Tomorrow, the station house would be all abuzz with the retelling of Sigrid’s encounter with a famous, handsome artist. Elsa smirked and rolled her eyes at Lukas.
Beimer looked at her date and gave only the most cursory of nods. “Trommler.”
Lukas’s eyes narrowed showing he was not amused. He really didn’t like her partner. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure all is set for deliveries tomorrow. I’ll be right back.” He kissed Elsa’s temple and left her there among her friends. She watched him walk to the other side of the gallery where he stopped to confer with a tall, black woman. She was stunning. Her ebony skin shone like polished mahogany, and her short haircut was combed in curling wisps around her lovely face. She was as graceful and regal as a runway model in her pale gold silk dress. The woman placed her hand on Lukas’s arm as he spoke and smiled, her white teeth like the richest of pearls set in her perfect mouth. She leaned in and laughed. Lukas continued to point out various pieces of art on the walls, and she nodded, standing at his side with her shoulder too close to his, in Elsa’s view. Her eyebrow came up over her emerald-green eye. And what is this?
***
Imani Bishop watched Lukas Trommler speak as he pointed to a wall of canvases. She stared at his sensuous lips. They’d been working together for the past six months, and he hadn’t asked her out despite the inviting signals she’d put out there. She wasn’t used to men ignoring her once she set her sights on them. Lukas seemed to have at least noticed she was a woman, but so far, he had not taken the bait. This wasn’t to be borne in her world. And tonight, he’d invited a date to the exhibit. She threw a sly look at the redhead who appeared chummy with the artist, and was stealing Lukas’s attention away. She would have to redouble her efforts.
“Take that block of four over there, and the two from the wet dreams collection on the south wall and get them prepared for delivery to Herr Ivchencko tomorrow by no later than three.” Lukas gave the instructions as he looked around the room. He knew Imani would handle it. She always did, and with professional care. He had every confidence all would go smoothly. He mentally checked his ‘to-do’ list, eager to tie things up and get back to Elsa. He couldn’t think of anything else imminent. He turned and looked at Imani. “Do you think we’ve had a success here tonight or what?” He knew she would share in his joy over the outcome of the exhibit. Happy artist. Happy collectors. Happy gallery employees earning fantastic commissions.
She wrapped her hands around his arm and leaned in, smiling. “Of course I am. You’ve done it again, Lukas. Perfect, as usual.” She laid it on thick, putting the ‘I’m available, take me’ vibe out in his direction.
Lukas patted her hand and disengaged. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you. Can you handle locking up on your own?” He stepped away, but waited on her reply.
Her face lost just a little of its joy. “Yes. Will you be leaving before it all ends?” She dug for information, feeling a pang in her gut.
“If luck is on my side, yes. I have a date,” he said, looking over at Elsa, “and she’s really something, Imani.”
The look in his eyes as he watched the redhead brought forth the monster of jealousy within. She seethed. Still, she maintained an air of nonchalance. “Well, you have fun, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“You, too.” He didn’t even look at her again before walking with purpose back to the redhead. Rage simmered under the surface of Imani’s burnished skin. On the outside, she smiled, but underneath, she promised herself that Lukas Trommler would be in her bed before the end of the week, redheaded bitch or not. She’d waited long enough. All she needed was the opportunity. Once she had him, he would see what he’d been missing.