Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
The Meet the Artist event proved to be more interesting than Sophy had anticipated. Up until that point the day had been a bust as far as she was concerned. There had been no sign of Vincent Grant.
She and Luke were on their own at the event. Bruce had been left behind in the suite. He had not seemed to mind. When they left, he had been stretched out on the rug, evidently preparing to take a nap, but she was pretty sure he was planning to move to the bed as soon as they were gone.
Once she concluded that Grant was not at the Meet the Artist reception, she decided to take a closer look at the creators.
Five of the six artists in residence were present.
They milled around the buffet table with expressions that ranged from morose to irritated.
In between downing canapés by the handful they muttered to each other and checked the time.
Sophy leaned over the small table where she and Luke sat, cups of coffee in front of them. “Artists are notoriously temperamental,” she said, “but this lot looks way beyond moody. They really do not want to be here.”
“The creative type isn’t always good at making nice with strangers, especially if those strangers are potential customers,” Luke observed. “We probably make them nervous.”
“True, but something tells me there’s more going on. I’ll see if I can corner one of them and do some chatting.”
Luke put down his empty coffee cup and got to his feet. “I’ll come with you.”
They made their way toward the buffet table. As they neared their objective, Sophy sized up the small herd.
“I vote we go for the young woman with the ponytail,” she said. “She looks annoyed enough to talk.”
Luke considered the artist Sophy had selected. “Works for me. You’re right. She’s definitely pissed.”
The artist’s name tag announced that she was Anna. There was no last name. She was not pleased when she realized that she had been cornered.
“Hi,” Sophy gushed. “We’re the Ainsleys. I’m so excited to talk to one of the artists responsible for the amazing light art we’ve seen here at the colony.”
Anna managed a resigned nod. “Are you going to bid on any of the pieces at the auction?”
“We’re considering it,” Luke said, reaching for a canapé. “Depends how high the bidding gets. We don’t consider ourselves experts in light art so we don’t want to get carried away and make a major investment mistake.”
“It’s never a good idea to buy art as an investment,” Anna said, clearly bored. “Buy it because it speaks to you.”
Luke looked as if he was about to argue the wisdom of that old advice but Sophy managed to plant the heel of her right shoe on the toe-end of one of his low boots before he could speak.
“You are absolutely right,” she said to Anna. “That’s what I keep telling my husband. But he comes from the business world. To him everything is either a good investment or a bad one. I seem to recall your name on one of the pieces that was on display in the Maze Gallery last night.”
For the first time, Anna brightened a tad. “Midnight in the Vortex.”
“I remember that one,” Sophy said. “You certainly caught the vibe of this canyon. You know, I didn’t believe there was such a thing as a vortex before I came here.”
“This one’s real—or real enough.” Anna shuddered. “It gets to you after a while. It freaked me out a little when I first arrived but I thought it was my imagination. I’ve changed my mind. The weird vibe is getting worse by the day.”
“How long have you been here?” Luke asked.
“Three weeks. I’ve been thinking about leaving. The problem is that under the terms of the contract we each signed, we’re supposed to stay a full month. If you leave early you don’t get the honorarium.”
“I take it that’s large enough to make artists want to stay,” Luke observed.
“Oh, yeah. Ten thousand dollars. I’m going to use the money to take a trip to Europe and immerse myself in old-world art. I’ve had enough of light art. Turns out it’s not my thing.”
“I thought the local vortex was supposed to be inspirational, artistically speaking,” Sophy said.
“Inspirational, my ass. I’ve heard that a lot of the artists haven’t made it to the full month. They left without getting the big check. I didn’t believe that at first but now I do.”
“Hatch must be disappointed when the artists in residence don’t feel like they are flourishing here,” Luke said. “After all, he spent a fortune creating his new version of the old art colony.”
Anna made a face. “I don’t know why he bothered. It’s not as if he cares about art. A while back all the artists were invited to his private quarters for a welcome reception. There wasn’t a single piece of art anywhere in the house. Nothing on the walls. No sculpture. Nothing.”
Sophy widened her eyes. “Then why did he go to all the trouble of building the colony?”
Anna gave an elaborate shrug. “Who knows? Rich guys are weird. Maybe the vibe in this canyon is eating his brain or something. Look, I’ve gotta go. We’re under orders to socialize with the guests every fifteen minutes.”
“I understand,” Sophy said.
Anna drifted off into the small crowd. Sophy watched her for a moment.
“This place gets freakier and freakier,” she said. “What’s the point of paying desperate artists ten thousand dollars just to stick around for thirty days?”
“They are probably window dressing to make the place look like a real art colony. But if I’m right that a hypno talent is running experiments with the hypnotic suggestion tiles, it’s possible they are test subjects like the rest of us.”
She started to respond but stopped when she caught a glimpse of the figure hovering in the shadows of a doorway. “He’s here.”
Fury surged through her. She started toward the doorway.