Face in the Frame (3 page)

“Thank you,” she said, the corner of her mouth crooking into a grin.

Judge Jennifer Murphy wanted to meet in an art gallery, which wasn’t exactly Brodie’s style. He wondered if she’d watched one too many spy movies. She was the first to arrive, waiting for him on a bench before a huge painting of what appeared to be a smear of dark blue on a white background. He took his time before approaching her, studying each painting in turn, drawing out the moment, winding up her nerves to give him the upper hand.

She was a neat, attractive woman, short dark hair feathered about her pretty but serious face. When she saw him she shot to her feet, already extending her hand in anticipation of receiving the one thing that could destroy her life.

“Thank you Brodie,” said Jennifer with relief when he finally placed the memory stick in her hand. “Who was he?”

“Just some wee scrote who set up a dummy wi-fi account in your favourite cafe. A little tip your Honour, don’t use free wi-fi, it’s not secure.”

“I’ve learnt my lesson, believe me. How much do I owe you?”

“Call it a freebie, for now. I’ll call on you when I need a favour.”

Jennifer’s lips pursed but that was the only reaction she betrayed. Truth be told, she’d been expecting this. “If you prefer.” She looked up at the painting of the blue smear directly before them. “Do you like art?” she asked him.

“I’m too busy to look at art.”

“That’s a shame. We should all have something beautiful in our lives.”

“I’ve got the rugby.”

“I was thinking of something deeper than that.”

“Art’s not really my thing. I mean, look at that shite. What’s it supposed to be?”

“It’s abstract. It represents chaos and the futility of the human condition.”

“It represents some chancer trying his arm. Paint a load of meaningless crap and everyone will be too embarrassed to say they don’t get it so they spout any old fanny to make it look like they know what’s going through the artist’s head, when all the artist is thinking of is pound signs. This crap is for bloody mincy-heids. It’s a great racket though - chinless wonders with more money than sense pay for some bloke’s bodily fluids in a glass. Genius.”

“Despite what you just said, I think you might enjoy this,” she said, taking his arm and steering him towards the next room.

Brodie was surprised she wanted to remain in the company of the man who’d retrieved compromising e-mails for her but he got the feeling she was lonely. He guessed that was because she was married to a complete bastard. “Where are we going?” he said, thinly disguising his patience.

“There’s a new exhibition on, a brilliant new talent. I think you might appreciate his work.”

“I hope it’s not more of that modern art bollocks.”

“No, this is much more on the edge. I think you’ll like it,” she said enigmatically before pushing open the door.

Brodie came to a halt. “This is fucking freaky.”

“You really do have an eloquence all your own,” she said wryly.

There were faces everywhere - mounted on display stands, in individual frames, some facing one another as though they were in the middle of a conversation. But there was nothing plastic or fake about these faces, they looked real, like they’d been sliced off the head, leaving only the front section. He watched with mounting horror as someone pressed a red button on the wall and two faces opposite each other began to chat, eyes blinking, lips moving with frightening realism.

“Why the bloody hell would you think I’d like this?” he exclaimed. “Are you trying to give me nightmares?”

“This is Lucas Thorne’s new exhibition. I thought you might find it intriguing.”

“Never heard of him.”

“He’s an artist, famous and extremely talented. He usually does life work, his paintings are exquisite. Now he’s extended his repertoire into animatronics.”

“Like those films with the dinosaurs?”

“Yes, I suppose,” she said with distaste.

“I love those films.” This encouraged him to take a closer look. Reluctantly Brodie ventured further into the room, mouth hanging open. They were surrounded by faces of every sex, race and age. There was no discrimination here. “They’re so lifelike.”

“Lucas is a very talented man.”

“You know him?”

“Slightly. We’ve met at his other exhibitions. I’ve travelled the country to see his work. I’ve got tickets for the grand opening tonight, this is just the preview. It includes a special meet and greet with the artist himself.” She hesitated before adding, “I’ve got a spare ticket if you’re interested?”

Brodie couldn’t imagine anything worse than spending an evening in the company of all this creepiness. “No thanks. Is all his work this realistic?”

“Not like this. I have to say this is his best,” she said, peering at the face of what appeared to be a young woman, an angry one, whose eyes blazed open, the lips flapping as a pre-recorded voice emanated from a small speaker inside the mouth, launching into a tirade, using a variety of colourful Glaswegian words, careful to avoid the worst words, this was a family show after all. Brodie couldn’t imagine what sort of moron would bring their kids here to get mentally scarred.

A chill ran down Brodie’s spine as he listened to the thing on the wall, watched the twitch of every muscle as its jaw continued to flap, genuine emotion seeming to run across its features. He found it unnerving.

Finally the face reached the end of its tirade and closed its eyes and mouth, to his relief. Another voice started up behind him and he whipped round to see the face of an elderly woman with rheumy eyes speaking in a gossipy tone, the face opposite it coming to life and talking back, like two old biddies indulging in a bit of gossip. Peering closely at the old women he saw the only thing not true to life were the eyes. From a distance they were effective but up close they were glassy, absent of emotion. The face was incredible though - small creases feathering the eyes and lips, lines cutting through the forehead and cheeks. There was even a mole on one of the faces with a black hair poking out of it.

The two old women were forgotten when one face in particular caught his attention, one that was very familiar to him, although he couldn’t think why. He felt slightly nauseous as he pressed the button beside it, bringing it to life and then he knew why it rang a bell. The stubble was gone as was all the dirt, accumulated from years of living on the streets but nothing could change the unique way his face moved, that overstated paranoid blink, the flap of the lips, just the subtle things that had identified him as an individual. Suddenly his seemingly crazy words made sense.

He wants my face.

Maybe there was a more sinister reason why Lucas Thorne’s work was so lifelike?

“You know Your Honour, I think I will take that spare ticket after all,” said Brodie, staring at Fred’s visage as its eyes closed and it went silent. Dead.

CHAPTER 3

Brodie hurried back to the office and managed to catch Cass just before she left for the day.

“I’ve got an assignment for you,” he said as he burst through the door.

“What’s happened? You look…agitated.”

“I’ve found Fred.”

“Where?”

“At the art gallery.”

“What’s he doing there? Telling them they have aliens hiding in their basement?”

“Not all of him. Just his face.”

“Have you been drinking already?”

“I haven’t touched a drop. He’s here,” he said, dumping a leaflet on her desk about Lucas Thorne’s exhibition.

“Oooh I’ve heard about this,” she said, scooping up the leaflet. “I was hoping to see it at some point, it’s supposed to be amazing.”

“Well your luck’s in because I’ve got you a ticket for tonight to meet the artist himself and you’ll get paid for it.”

“Seriously?” she said, delighted. “But why?”

“Because he’s got Fred’s face in his exhibition. I thought it was a bit funny just after Fred told me someone wanted his face.”

She stared at him as though he’d run mad. “You what?”

“His exhibition is all faces and they’re freakishly real. One of them looks exactly like Fred.”

“So you think Lucas Thorne, a renowned artist, is cutting the faces off homeless people and exhibiting them in museums? Have I got that right?”

“Yeah, why not? He might be a psycho.”

“Or, more likely, he’s taking casts of their faces and probably paying them a lot of money in the process.”

“Sometimes you have such a vivid imagination Cass,” he said.

She snatched the ticket from his hand. “I think you’re barmy but I’m not going to turn down a free ticket. So what’s my brief?”

“You know, chat him up a bit. I’m assuming he likes women but he’s an artist so I might be wrong.”

“You can be such a caveman.”

“It would really help our cause if he’s attracted to you.”

“So you think he’s going to say to me, hello, fancy a drink? By the way, I like cutting off people’s faces and displaying them in museums.”

“You never know your luck,” he said cheerfully.

“I’m not complaining, I get a free evening out of it with pay.”

“Just talk to him. Don’t go anywhere alone with him, alright? This prick could be a loon.”

“Understood. I’d better go home and change then.”

“I’ll come with you, I want you wired up.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Yes. We don’t know what we’re dealing with. I don’t want to walk into that museum and find your face on a wall.”

“Alright, if it makes you feel better.” She glanced at her watch. “We’d better get moving then.”

Brodie sat on the couch in Cass’s flat, hands clasped, attempting to contain himself.
Dear God
he thought as she paraded up and down before him.

“What do you think?” she said, giving him a twirl, the clingy black dress leaving little to the imagination.

“Hhmmnshp,” he said.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s very…nice but I don’t think it’s suitable for a swanky-pants art gallery.”

She looked down at herself. “Perhaps you’re right. Wait there, I have another possibility.”

She disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door, allowing Brodie to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans. The woman was a goddess and she seemed to have no idea how much she affected him, which was only for the best because if she knew it would ruin their working relationship, not to mention their friendship.

The door was flung open and Cass walked back in wearing a floor length black dress composed of silk and chiffon.

“What about this?” she said, giving another twirl, causing the light, floaty material to lift, the slit up the side revealing a lot of thigh.

This time he took a moment to ensure his lips were working properly before replying. “That’s much more like it. Very attractive but classy. Your hair though…”

“What’s wrong with it?” she said, patting her incredibly long dark hair, which was piled up into a French twist.

“He’s an artist, I think it might intrigue him more down. Your hair makes you stand out from the crowd.”
As well as that killer body
.

“You might have a point there,” she said before removing the clip holding her hair in place, sending it plummeting down her back. Brodie felt his palms start to sweat again.

“Well?” she said.

“Perfect,” he replied before clearing his throat. He got to his feet and took out the tiny microphone. “You need to wear this.”

She looked down at the dress. “Where?”

“Err, where do you think?”

She took it from him and his breath caught in his throat when she stuffed it down her cleavage. If there was such a thing as reincarnation he wanted to come back as a bugging device.

“So you’re all set,” he said. “Be careful, won’t you?”

“I’ll be fine Bossman.”

“Code word for tonight?”

She thought before replying. “Canapé. Should be plenty of those kicking about.”

“Canapé it is. Just say the word and I’ll come running.”

“I know you will,” she said with a fond smile before pulling on her wrap, picking up her clutch bag and heading to the door. “See you later,” she said before departing, leaving Brodie standing alone in her living room, heart racing.

By the time Cass arrived at the exhibition the party was in full swing. Jennifer was waiting for her by the door and they went in together, Jennifer handing over the tickets.

“Why is Brodie so interested in Lucas Thorne?” she asked Cass.

“He gets curious sometimes,” she replied in a way that indicated no further information would be forthcoming.

“Then it’s none of my business?”

“Afraid so.”

“Champagne?” said a waiter dressed in a white shirt with black tie.

“Don’t mind if I do,” said Cass, accepting a glass. She wasn’t a drinker, preferring orange juice to getting wasted, but she was a sucker for champagne. She could just imagine Brodie listening to every word.
Go easy on that, you’re working
he’d be chiding her but she couldn’t hear him so she took a sip, smiling into her glass.

Cass and Jennifer meandered around the room together, studying the exhibits. Lucas hadn’t made his grand entrance yet. Cass could understand why Brodie thought it was a creepy display but she was able to appreciate the detail in the faces, the incredible way they aped genuine human emotion. All except the eyes, it didn’t reach the eyes, which marked them as copies of the real thing.

“What do you think?” Jennifer asked her.

Cass stared at the face of a woman about her own age with smooth peachy skin and long fair lashes. A little reluctantly she pushed the button beside the face and was startled when its eyes flew open, sparkling a vibrant blue. “Very clever,” she said.

The face then launched into a tirade, slurring its words like a drunk woman on a night out, the expression in the face astonishing.

“You still don’t look too sure,” said Jennifer.

“I’m not. I loved his last exhibition but this is a bit…”

“Odd?”

“Yeah. They’re just so lifelike.”

“The man’s a genius.”

“He is that,” she said, studying the face closer, which suddenly went silent, eyes and mouth closing, making it look dead.

She hastily moved onto the next face, the one Brodie insisted was Fred. She had to admit there was a resemblance, even the voice sounded like his, ranting about an alien conspiracy. However, unlike Brodie, she thought Lucas had probably modelled it on Fred. It was inconceivable that a serial killer - and if Brodie’s theory was correct then that was what Lucas Thorne was because there were at least fifteen faces here - would slice the faces off his victims and put them up on public display for the whole world to see. There was a coating on the faces, she had no idea what but it gave them all a slight shine, the ones in the brighter light looking as though they were sweating.

“Here he is,” said Jennifer, rousing Cass from her musings, her normally impassive voice filled with excitement.

Lucas Thorne was one of those men who made an entrance wherever he went, even when he wasn’t trying. It began as an excited whisper rippling around the room. Everyone turned to look as a side door opened and in strode a tall slender figure, long black coat swirling around him, a silver-topped walking cane elegantly cradled in one hand.

In one fluid move the coat was swept from his shoulders by a lackey, who then sidestepped so Lucas was revealed in all his glory. His suit was entirely black, making his long ash blond hair stand out. Cass knew he was attractive, she’d seen photos of him but she hadn’t realised just how stunning he actually was. His most striking feature was his eyes - bright green, the pupils elongated and curved, giving him cat’s eyes. Apparently he suffered from some sort of eye condition but it only added to his appeal. His mouth was alluringly pouty, cheekbones you could cut your fingers on.

He moved through the crowd, not looking at anyone, staring straight ahead as though the room were empty, the thud of the cane hitting the floor the only sound. As he passed Cass she turned her head to watch and the ripple of her waist length hair caught his eye. He turned ever so slightly, she spied a flash of green cat’s eyes, then he was gone.

“Was that it?” Cass asked Jennifer.

“No, that was just a teaser. He likes to keep his audience hanging.”

“Bit pretentious, isn’t it?” she replied, following that tall shadow as it disappeared through a door at the far end of the room.

“He’s an artist, he can get away with being eccentric.”

“Anyone else would be called a prick.”

Jennifer was amused. “It seems Brodie’s rubbed off on you.”

“He has that effect.”

“I’m curious, what’s it like working for a man like Brodie MacBride?”

“It’s certainly an adventure,” she smiled.

Jennifer did a double take at the wistfulness in Cass’s eyes. “I didn’t know you were a couple.”

“We’re not,” snapped Cass. “What made you say that?”

“Sorry, it was just the look you gave. Sorry,” she repeated when Cass stared at her in outrage.

Cass was disconcerted. She’d thought she was always so careful to conceal her feelings for Brodie. He’d no interest in her and she would not ruin their friendship by allowing him to find out. After one amazing night of really hot sex he’d offered her a job while making it perfectly clear that he didn’t date the staff. She’d accepted because she’d needed the work and she enjoyed the job but it meant Brodie was off limits to her. Not that he’d shown any interest in her since, so she’d resigned herself to forever being his friend, which was difficult as he attracted a lot of female attention with those beautiful whisky-coloured eyes, tousled dark hair and strapping six foot one frame. This had led to her attempting to deal with extreme feelings of jealousy by dating men completely inappropriate for her just to try and make him jealous in turn, which never seemed to work. It was also seriously screwing up her love life because, after dating a series of losers and getting nowhere, she was starting to become disillusioned with men. At forty one Brodie was fourteen years older than her, but that had never mattered.

However her main concern right then was the microphone in her dress, allowing him to hear every word Jennifer had just said. But there was a lot of background noise so hopefully he’d missed the comment.

“Oh look, Lucas is coming back,” said Jennifer, glad of the distraction.

Cass was equally glad and turned to watch the tall figure return, his presence announced by no sound or ceremony but still everyone’s attention was riveted to him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending tonight,” announced Lucas in a deep, delicious voice that made Cass tingle. “I do hope you’re enjoying my new body of work.” He was interrupted by applause and a whistle of approval. It seemed his bizarre work had been well-received. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he added with a good-natured smile that caused a ripple of laughter. “Please, eat, drink and be merry. It’s a pleasure to have you all here.”

A man approached Cass from behind and placed a hand on her arm. She spun round, hand already forming into a fist until she realised the short, dumpy man in the dark purple suit with the neatly snipped goatee wasn’t a threat.

“You’ve got tickets to meet Mr Thorne?” he said in a high pitched voice that bordered on comical.

They both nodded.

“This way please.”

Cass and Jennifer followed the man through the room to the door Lucas had disappeared through earlier where a table was set up against one wall, groaning beneath the weight of food, jugs of water and orange juice and glasses of champagne. Four people were already present, piling their plates high with food.

“This is great, isn’t it?” said one flushed, excited-looking man. “Meeting Lucas Thorne and all this scran too.”