Flirting With Disaster

“I stopped by to see Ellie,” she said more calmly. “Is she home?”

“Now’s not a good time,” he said, and started to close the door.

Maggie stepped over the threshold before he could stop her. “I’m not leaving till I’ve spoken to her,” she said, meeting the man’s angry gaze with an unblinking stare, even though she felt sick.

He seemed thrown by her determination. “Look, lady, you can’t just come barging into someone’s home. It’s called trespassing.”

“You could always call the police,” she suggested mildly. “In fact, I think that’s a very good idea. Why don’t we do that?” She extracted her cell phone from her purse and flipped it open.

For a minute she thought he might snatch the phone right out of her hand, but he didn’t. Instead, he stormed past her and headed for the elevator.

Maggie waited until the elevator doors closed and it began its creaking descent before she breathed a sigh of relief. “Ellie?” she called softly. “It’s okay. He’s gone. Where are you?”

“Go away,” Ellie pleaded from behind a closed door. “I know you were trying to help, but you’ve only made things worse.”

Maggie’s stomach churned at the quiet desperation she heard in her employee’s voice. “Ellie, please, come out here. Let’s talk about this. I want to help.”

Slowly the door to what was apparently a bathroom opened.

Maggie wasn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t Ellie looking shaken but otherwise unharmed.

“Are you okay?” she asked, surveying Ellie closely for signs of bruises.

“Brian would never hurt me,” Ellie said. “Not physically, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“From the elevator it sounded like a pretty violent argument,” Maggie said. “I was worried about you. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you by insisting on coming in.”

Ellie sighed and sank down on a leather sofa. “It doesn’t really matter. He’ll calm down eventually. He always does.”

“Then this has happened before?”

“A couple of times, but not like tonight. This was the worst he’s ever been. I upset him when I told him you might do a showing of my art.”

“I heard something break. Did he throw something at you?”

Ellie shook her head. “Not at me. At one of my paintings.”

Maggie heard a defeated note in the girl’s voice that spoke volumes. She finally understood that this was why Ellie was so reluctant to agree to a showing—she could never be certain if she would have anything to show. “He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Destroys your work,” she guessed.

Ellie nodded miserably. “He says I have no talent, that he doesn’t want me to be humiliated.”

Maggie felt her indignation rise, but she kept her voice under careful control. “Who is he? Your boyfriend?”

“He was,” Ellie admitted, shamefaced. “He wasn’t always like this. He’s changed lately. I’ve been trying to break things off with him. I know Brian’s no good for me, but he was my mentor, you see, so it’s hard. There was a time when he encouraged me, when he taught me technique and composition, when he helped me settle on the right medium for my work.”

“Then he’s an artist, too? How did you meet?”

Ellie nodded. “He was my instructor. Everyone said Professor Brian Garrison was the most talented artist on staff. I was flattered when he took an interest in me.”

“But eventually he realized that your talent was greater than his own,” Maggie guessed.

Ellie seemed startled by her assessment. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Oh, Ellie, I’m so sorry,” Maggie said, reaching for her hand. “Don’t let Brian or anyone else ruin this gift of yours for you. Let’s take a look at what you have here. You trust my judgment, don’t you? You know I’d never lie to you about anything this important?”

“Of course I trust you, but I don’t think I can look right now. You go ahead,” Ellie said. “I don’t know how much damage he did this time.”

Maggie moved into the huge open space that comprised the studio portion of the apartment, then winced at the destruction. Brian had obviously been at it long before she arrived and heard that crash. What she’d heard had apparently been a jar of turpentine that had been thrown at a huge still life of sunflowers. The style was reminiscent of Van Gogh, but Ellie had a unique vision that brought a touch of lightness and whimsy to the work. Of course, now the paint ran in distorted streaks, so it was impossible to get the full effect.

Another canvas had been slashed, another splattered with paint. One had a giant X painted cross it in vivid red. Apparently he’d been indiscriminate in his rampage, choosing whichever works were most convenient, not those of any particular theme. Still lifes had been damaged, as well as street scenes.

Maggie’s fury rose. Seeing such incredible paintings destroyed in a jealous rage made her almost physically ill. What a terrible waste!

“How bad is it?” Ellie called out in a voice that trembled.

“Half a dozen are destroyed,” Maggie told her, struggling to keep the outrage out of her voice. “But there are quite a few he left untouched, more than enough for a show.”

She went back to sit next to Ellie. “I think we need to get these paintings over to the gallery where they’ll be safe,” she told her. “And then you need to get your locks changed here. I’d do it myself, but I don’t want to leave you alone while I pick up my tools and try to find a lock at this hour. Besides which, we need someone with a truck to take the paintings. I’ll call some friends. We can take care of both of those things tonight. In the morning, if you’d like, we can go to the police and get a restraining order against him.”

Ellie shook her head. “That will only infuriate him more. Besides, I told you he’d never hurt me.”

Maggie squeezed her hand. “But he has hurt you,” Maggie said gently. “This is meant to hurt your soul, Ellie. It’s meant to destroy your self-confidence and rob you of something that’s very important to you.”

Ellie shook her head stubbornly. “I can’t ask for a restraining order. Changing the locks will be enough. He’ll get the message.”

Maggie had seen the rage in the man’s eyes. She doubted his mood would mellow significantly anytime soon. Nor did she think Ellie should ever risk trusting him not to explode when she least expected it, but she bit her tongue for now. She didn’t want to add to Ellie’s distress. “If you change your mind, I’ll go with you, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“Now, let me make that call and we’ll secure your apartment and move the paintings.”

She pulled her cell phone from her bag and punched in Dinah and Cord’s number. Unfortunately no one answered. She debated the wisdom of calling Warren, who might also be able to counsel Ellie on dealing with Brian, but she doubted he had the tools to deal with changing a lock, and that was a top priority. Nor did he have a truck to help with moving the paintings.

But Josh could help on both fronts, she realized. And if he’d been convinced to assist with the building of Amanda’s house, then he must have something of a knight-in-shining-armor complex. Fortunately he’d given all the volunteers a card with contact information on it, including his cell-phone number. Maggie found the card in her purse and dialed his number.

“Yes,” he answered so irritably that Maggie almost hung up.

“Josh, it’s Maggie.”

“Well now, this is a surprise,” he said, his tone immediately changing. There was a sexy vibe that hadn’t been there ten seconds ago.

“I need some help,” she said. “Are you busy?”

“Maybe you ought to tell me what sort of help you need before I say just how busy I am,” he said, a sudden note of caution in his tone.

Walking away from Ellie, Maggie spoke in a low voice and gave him a condensed version of what she’d walked in on a half hour earlier.

“I’ll pick up a new dead bolt and be there in twenty minutes,” he said without hesitation. “You two going to be okay until then?”