Storymania - A Brush With Death by Frank Dunsmore

A Brush With Death
Frank Dunsmore

Detective Schmidt stood in the foyer of the Chicago Art Institute and thought, This is truly a gem in the crown of Chicago. My sister studied and got her MFA from The School of The Art Institute. Our entire family has enjoyed the beautiful paintings through the years and today I’m going to enjoy those paintings for a few hours. Many times during his career as a policeman, Lieutenant Schmidt came here for peace of mind, away from a murder case he was working on.

He reminisced about his humanities courses with Dr. Downey at Wright Junior College, some thirty years ago. The professor had instilled in him a passion for art. He reached the top step of the marble staircase and heard a docent lecturing about Georges Seurat’s Sunday Afternoon on the Island of the Grande Jatte.

"Seurat was the creator of Pointillism and his famous painting is completely composed of thousands of points or dots. His masterpiece took over two years to complete."

The docent’s words were interrupted and Schmidt’s ears were jarred by a loud, long scream. Instinctively he ran in the direction of the scream, down the south hall. He passed three galleries and some Institute guards in the hall who were looking for the screamer. He saw a young woman standing to the side of a gallery entrance near the end of the hall.

When he got closer he saw she was crying. She pointed to the partially opened sliding door to the gallery and said, "It’s awful, it’s terrible!" She motioned for him to go in. Schmidt read a small sign on the door, "Temporarily Closed."

Two Institute guards and several curiosity seekers arrived at the scene. Schmidt showed the guards his badge and said, "I’m Lieutenant Schmidt in homicide. I want you guards to keep everyone out of this gallery. And Miss, I want you to remain right where you are. I’m going into the gallery but I want to talk to you when I come out."

Schmidt attached his badge to his jacket pocket so it could be seen by all and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves he always carried. He walked into the gallery and looked to his left and saw two bodies face down in the corner. Red droplets splattered the lower white walls of the corner and the floor. One body was a male uniformed Art Institute guard and the other a female in casual attire. They were shot once in the back of their heads.

The smell of blood was heavy in the air, making his heart pound hard. My God, I’ll never get used to this! he thought.

He saw the woman’s small purse beside her body and picked it up. He opened it and then her wallet. Her driver’s license identified her as Barbara Wolf. Her business card read, Barbara Wolf, MFA, Art Agent. Appraises, Buys, and Sells Art. He placed the wallet back in her purse and called homicide on his cellular phone.

"Yeah, it’s Schmidt. I’m at the Art Institute and I’m reporting two homicides, gunshot victims. One’s an Art Institute guard, male and the other appears to be a patron, female. Send me a forensic team and any detectives you can spare." Schmidt signed off and looked around the gallery.

The beautiful paintings appeared unharmed. He counted eighteen paintings in the gallery and recognized several Monets. Schmidt heard loud voices in the hall and hurried to the gallery entrance. Patrons were still hurrying down

the hall. He heard one woman say, "You can’t even go to the Art Institute without someone getting murdered!"

Schmidt turned and saw the young woman who motioned him to go into the gallery. He said, "I’m Detective Schmidt. I’d like to ask you some questions. Please tell me your name and what happened."

The young woman nodded, "I’m Sue Thompson and I’m a student here at the Art Institute. I wanted to see the Monets in this gallery," she gestured a trembling hand at the entrance, "and since the door wasn’t completely closed, I thought it wouldn’t hurt if I just - just squeeze through and have a look, you know? So I went into the gallery and, and…." She stopped, closed her eyes and swallowed. Tears leaked from around her closed lids. "And I saw them like that…!" She broke down and sobbed.

Schmidt put a steadying arm around her. "It’s okay. Did you see anyone else here? Anyone leave as you came in?"

Sue shook her head, eyes still closed. "No, just them, the dead ones, -- blood everywhere -– oh, god, I’m going to be sick!"

"Ms. Thompson, would you please print your name and phone number on this piece of paper so I can call you later if I need to ask you more questions."

"Sure, detective." She printed her name and phone number on the piece of paper and handed it to him.

"Thanks Ms. Thompson."

Schmidt saw familiar faces of the forensic unit coming down the hall. He waved to them and pointed at the gallery entrance. They joined Schmidt in the gallery and he said, "The victims were shot in the back of the head, probably at close range. Maybe the perps were trying to steal a picture and the guard walked in on them."

Schmidt thought out loud and said, "If I were a perp and a stranger to the guard and the woman, I wouldn’t have killed them. I would knock them cold, gag ‘em, and tie ‘em up, but I wouldn’t have killed them. So maybe it’s possible that the guard and woman knew the perp. In that case he might think, these people know me. The painting will bring me almost a million bucks but not if this two bit guard and the babe put the finger on me. They’ve gotta go! The only problem with this theory is that none of the pictures are missing." Schmidt saw a tall man out of the corner of his eye.

"I’m Dr. Wycoff, director of the Art Institute. One of the guards told me of the murders in the gallery and I came here as fast as I could."

Schmidt shook his hand and said, "I’m Detective Schmidt

from homicide and these men are police forensic technicians. Dr. Wycoff, can you tell me anything about the victims?"

Wycoff looked down at the guard and the woman and said, "Oh, no, poor Amos." He took a handkerchief from his pocket and patted his brow. "The guard’s name is Amos Jordan. He was a loyal employee and worked for us at least fifteen years. He was very reliable and conscientious. I don’t recognize the woman, the poor soul."

Schmidt asked, "Do the paintings look intact? Do they appear to be in order to you?"

"They appear to be but I want one of our curators to examine them."

"What will he look for?"

"Detective, let me call Dr. Morton. He’ll answer all your questions. I have a good general knowledge of art but Dr. Morton is an expert on French Impressionists and of course that’s what this gallery is comprised of. I’ll call him right away." Wycoff pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Dr. Morton. "Yes, Dr. Morton, please come to gallery 202. We need your expertise and a Detective Schmidt wants to ask you some questions. Thanks.

"He’ll be right here."

Schmidt thanked Dr. Wycoff and looked at the forensic techs. "Well guys, what have you got for me?"

Sergeant McMahon looked up at Schmidt and said, "The bullet wounds appear to be small caliber, maybe 22. The woman may have put up a struggle. We’ll take scrapings of her finger nails and let you know. We also found a heavy duty staple on the floor next to the guard. We’d like to dust for fingerprints on the frames of the paintings if it won’t set off any alarms."

Dr. Wycoff overheard the sergeant and said, "I’ll go over to central control and turn off the alarms for this gallery."

Schmidt asked, "What is central control?"

"It’s a locked room that has all of the controls for the security alarm systems. I’ll be right back."

Schmidt looked at the entrance to the gallery and saw several young men and women staring into the gallery. Their faces were somber but they all looked excited. They looked like they wanted to ask questions. Schmidt walked over to them and said, "I’m Detective Schmidt. Are all of you Art Institute students?"

A young man said, "Yes, we are. We just heard the terrible news, that someone was murdered. Detective, have any paintings been stolen?"

"We’re working on the murders and of course we won’t rule out art theft. Let’s play a game for a moment. I need young imaginations. Let’s assume you’re planning to steal a painting from the Art Institute. How would you go about it? Please tell me your name if you want to comment."

"Wow! I’m Nancy Peterson. The security is supposed to be state of the art. I think you would have to find out about the alarm system. Find out where it was and how to turn it off. Once you did that, taking a painting wouldn’t be that much of a problem. But then you’d have to figure out what to do with the painting after you got it out of the building. I think it would be next to impossible."

"Thanks Nancy, you’re very logical." Schmidt saw a man coming down the hall and thought it might be Dr. Morton. "My young friends, please excuse me for a few moments. Don’t go away. I need to ask you some questions."

Schmidt approached the man and said, "Dr. Morton?"

"Yes, you must be Detective Schmidt."

"Right, please come into the gallery. We need your expertise." They walked into the gallery and Schmidt said,

"These men are police forensic technicians and they’re looking for clues regarding the murders. What I need from you is your appraisal of the pictures in this gallery.

Are they intact? Do they appear to be in order?

I counted eighteen and recognized some Monets. Dr. Wycoff said you are an expert on French Impressionists."

Dr. Morton gulped and his face became pale as he glanced at the bodies in the corner. He walked over to the pictures on the right wall and said, "Well, let’s take a look." One by one he examined the paintings and moved from wall to wall until he had looked at each painting in the gallery.

"Three of the paintings are excellent Monet replicas." He pointed to the three. "I had to look very close to make sure. If I hadn’t any reason to examine them, I wouldn’t have known they were replicas."

"So, there has been a theft. The thieves thought they could buy more time by replacing the originals with replicas. Are the frames replicas?"

Dr. Morton said, "No, the frames are the originals. By using the original frames, the replicas appear even more authentic than if other frames were used. The thief or thieves probably cut the originals from the frames, fastened the replicas into the frames, and then rolled up the originals. They would be easier to conceal and to transport rolled up than in the frames. Cutting and stapling would take only a few moments and the thief or thieves would be on their way."

"If the guard and woman came into the gallery when the thieves were making the switch, that would explain why they were shot. What I need to know is who had access to the security system and was it turned off."

Dr. Morton said, "If the system was turned off, the thieves could walk the paintings right out the front door. If it wasn’t turned off, there’s a good chance that the paintings are still on the premises."

Schmidt asked, "Why is that? Is each painting tagged with some sort of electronic device?"

"Yes, it’s a very small sensitive device that is activated by lasers at the exits."

Schmidt and Dr. Morton looked up and saw Dr. Wycoff entering the gallery. He said, "I’ve turned the security system off. I also told the captain of the guards that I wanted every painting in every gallery accounted for."

Schmidt said, "That’s good. Dr. Wycoff. Can the alarms in one gallery be turned off without turning off the alarms in other galleries?"

"Why yes, sometimes the janitors must make repairs or move paintings. In that case, the alarms would be shut off for the specified gallery."

"Who can turn off the alarms in this gallery?"

"I can, so can Dr. Morton, if he states his reason for wanting them turned off, and also the guard of the gallery.

Actually, any Art Institute official or guard can have the system turned off for a good reason."

Schmidt thought for a moment and then said, "So Amos Jordan could have turned off the alarms in this gallery?"

Dr. Wycoff said, "That’s right and the murderers may have known this. But after Amos turned off the alarms, why did they murder him and the woman?"

Scmmidt thought, To keep Amos from telling, if he was forced and the woman may have walked in and saw what was going on.

"Detective Schmidt, Dr. Wycoff, there’s something else I found about the replicas." The two men looked and listened as Dr. Morton said, "The replicas are excellent. The person who painted them is a fine artist. You may know this, but I’ll say it anyway. All artists have egos, even the forgers and counterfeiters. The most perfect forger can have a problem if his ego gets in the way.

"You see the Monet signatures on each of the three replicas. Each M of Monet is slightly different than the M of the authentic Monet signature. This artist, as I said, is a fine artist and therefore the difference of the Ms is intentional. It’s almost like the forger is saying, ‘I’m not Monet, guess who I am.’ He’s almost daring you."

Schmidt said, "Excellent detective work, professor. I would like to compare this M with the hand writing and

signatures of all the Art Institute students. I’ll have two police handwriting experts work with you on this."

Wycoff said, "Dr. Morton and I will be glad to give your experts help on that. It shouldn’t take too long. Of course there’s no guarantee that it’s one of our students."

Schmidt said, "If I may have your cards, I’ll pass them on to my handwriting experts. They’ll be here by 10:00 tomorrow morning." Schmidt handed them each his card and said, "Gentlemen, thank you both. You’ve been very helpful."

He walked from the gallery to the students he talked to earlier. "Hello again, young Picassos. In any of your courses are you required to paint replicas of the great artists?"

"I don’t think it’s a requirement but some instructors suggest it. They tell you it’s a great way to learn about

the artist’s technique and it develops your own technique. It brings you closer to the artist," said a young man.

"You’re not Picasso, are you?" Schmidt said.

The students laughed.

"No, I’m John Petrakis."

"Do any of you think the murderers and thieves could be Institute students? If you comment, please state your name."

"I’m Sheila Shannon. I suppose anything’s possible, Detective Schmidt. It costs about one hundred thousand

dollars to complete four years at the Art Institute. I’d say a poor art student could easily be tempted if he or she knew it would pay off their student loans. In the Russian novel, Crime and Punishment, Raskolnikov killed a pawn

broker with a hatchet and robbed her so he could buy some books. I guess some students would do anything to get an education."

"I’m Jerry Logan. It would be a terrific risk. If you were caught, you’d go to prison for several years. Then you’d be a felon for life. But if you were successful, you’d be set for life."

"I’m Kathy Erickson. Do you have any suspects yet?"

Schmidt smiled as he moved his eyes over all the students and said, "You’re all suspects. Thanks for your

time and thoughts. Be good!" Some of the students laughed and others frowned.

He told the forensic team he was heading back to the station and he would check with them tomorrow morning to see what they found. Schmidt was able to get guard Jordan’s Social Security number from the Institute’s Human Resources Office. He found Barbara Wolf’s Social Security card in the wallet of her purse.

When he reached the police station he submitted the Social Security numbers of the murder victims and requested a background check. Now he had to be patient and wait for

the results. He hadn’t eaten all day and was hungry.

He ate dinner at the Seminary Restaurant. He had a Greek salad and a Butt Steak and homemade rice pudding for desert. After dinner he sipped his coffee, smoked his cigarette and thought, There’s more than one person doing this job. Anyone who is a master artist, able to paint those perfect replicas could be one of many of the students or instructors at the School Of The Art Institute. But who’s the seasoned hit man who put the bullets in the back of the victims’ heads? And whoever is pulling this off has to have

a contact on the outside to fence the original paintings. This case is a full plate. Schmidt paid his bill and headed for home and a good night’s sleep.

The morning came too soon and after a shower and shave, he drove to the station. The night sergeant in charge of

records and background checks had laid two files on his desk. He opened the first file and saw the mug shot of a young Amos Jordan, alias Amos Jergens, and alias Amos Jentry. He had been arrested for theft and burglary three times. His last conviction was two years ago. Schmidt frowned and scratched his head. He thought, So Amos wasn’t a guard in shining armor.

He opened the second file and saw the mug shot of a young Barbara Wolf, alias Beverly Watson, and alias Laura

Kilpatrick. Her rap sheet had five arrests. Two were thefts and three grand thefts. Her last conviction was three years ago. Schmidt thought, Attractive women have a way of hiding their worst. She fooled me.

Schmidt’s phone rang. It was Sergeant McMahon of the crime tech team. "Detective Schmidt, we can confirm a few points for you. The staple we found next to the guard was the same used to staple the replicas into their frames. The other pictures in the gallery are attached to the frames with tacks and glue. Scrapings from Barbara Wolf’s fingernails checks out. Human skin was found under the nails on her right hand. She must have scratched her assassin

pretty good. Also her finger prints and the guard’s prints were found on the replicas’ frames. The weapon used was a 22-caliber pistol. That’s about it."

Sergeant Schmidt said, "That’s excellent work. Many thanks to you and your men, McMahon."

He no sooner hung up and the phone rang again. "Detective Schmidt, this is Detective Track. I’m with Sergeant Jackson at the Art Institute in the registrar’s office. We’ve found several examples of the M that is in question. A student by the name of Susan Thompson always makes her capital Ms like the one you asked us to compare. We haven’t gone through all of the students files but Thompson’s capital Ms couldn’t be anymore identical than they are."

Schmidt thought, Sue Thompson, That’s the young woman who found the bodies!

"That’s great, detective. I’ll get on it right away."

Schmidt called the School of The Art Institute and asked if he could leave a message for Susan Thompson. The secretary said, "She’s in class until 10:50 but I can personally give her a message when the class lets out."

"That will be fine. Please tell her to meet Detective Schmidt at 11:15 on the steps by the lions. Tell her it’s important!" Schmidt next dialed Detective O’Neil’s extension. "Hey O’Neil, it’s Schmidt. Yeah, I know they lost but I’m a die hard Cub fan. Come to my office, I’m gonna need your help." Then Schmidt called Detectives Mary Shannon and Gert Schubert and asked them to come to his office.

The three detectives looked at Lieutenant Schmidt and he said, "Thanks for coming over on such short notice. I need your help. As you know there’s been two murders and three masterpiece paintings stolen, all this at the Art Institute. We got our first lead with a match by our hand writing experts. One of the students, a young woman by the name, Susan Thompson, did the replicas of the stolen Monet paintings and the experts matched the replicas’ signatures with the student’s.

"That’s where Detectives Shannon and Schubert come in. I’m meeting the suspect at the entrance of the Art Institute, on the steps by the lions. I want you two to be waiting off to the side. When I motion you to come over, you’ll Morandize and handcuff the suspect, Susan Thompson, and charge her with grand larceny, forgery of art masterpieces. You’ll take her back to the station and book her.

"O’Neil, I think this just might be our break in the case. There’s got to be at least one other person in this heist. I think I’ll get some information out of the student, Sue Thompson. You’ll be with me for whatever’s goin’ down, just like old times. I want you to be off to the side reading a book. Let’s do it." The detectives arrived at the Art Institute at 11:00.

At 11:15 Sue Thompson tapped Detective Schmidt on the shoulder and said, "Hi, you wanted to see me?"

"Oh hello Ms. Thompson. How’s the aspiring Georgia Keefe?"

She flicked back her long brown hair, grinned, and said, "Don’t I wish!"

"Ms. Thompson, do you know Barbara Wolf?"

Schmidt saw Sue Thompson’s face turn pale.

"No, I don’t know anyone by that name."

"How about Beverly Watson or Laura Kilpatrick?"

"No."

"Were you hired to paint three Monet replicas?"

"No, what’s this all about? Why are you asking me these

things?"

"Ms. Thompson, I know that you painted the three Monet replicas."

Sue’s head and shoulders jerked back and she said,

"How could you know that?"

"Police hand writing experts compared samples of your hand writing from your school documents in the Registrar’s Office. They matched your script against the replica Monet signature. Your capital Ms match exactly with the Ms you signed the replica signatures.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about!"

"Sue, don’t be the fall guy. I don’t think you did those murders or even stole the paintings. But unless you

tell the truth, you’ll be an accessory to first degree murder. Now who put you up to painting the replicas?"

Sue’s face was still pale, her forehead had droplets of perspiration, and she kept rubbing her upper arms. Finally she said, "I didn’t want to do it but the money would pay off all of my student loans and I’d still have several thousand dollars. I felt like I was going to be famous. I didn’t know murders would be part of it."

"Who hired you?"

"Barbara Wolf. She was so nice. She praised my paintings and thought I was a wonderful talent. She said she

wanted to do me a favor, to give me a break in the art world. I was so happy and all I had to do was paint three replicas. It took me six months but I was so proud. That’s why I wanted to go into the gallery, to see my work hanging there."

"Sue, who else is involved?"

"Pete Rodriguez in the mail room. I don’t know if anyone else is."

"How did you know about Pete?"

"He sat down next to me at lunch one day in the cafeteria and said, ‘I guess you and me is in on the gig.’ I said, ‘What gig?’ He said, ‘You’re paintin’ the phony pictures and I’m makin’ the real ones.’ Pete is such a lowlife. I haven’t talked to him since."

"Sue, you’ve been helpful with my investigation and I’ll mention that to the DA." Schmidt glanced and motioned for the two women plain clothes detectives to approach. "Now I want you to go with these police officers. They’ll take good care of you." One officer recited the Miranda Act to

Sue while the other handcuffed her. Sue’s eyes became wet and she started to sob. She bowed her head as the officers led her to an unmarked car.

Schmidt looked further to his right and motioned for Detective O’Neil to join him. The detective walked over and Schmidt said, "O’Neil, let’s pay a visit to the mail room."

He filled O’Neil in on what Sue had told him about Pete Rodriguez.

Schmidt and O’Neil were greeted by a woman behind a desk at the entrance to the mail room. Schmidt showed his badge and said, "We’d like to speak with Pete Rodriguez."

The woman said, "Sure, he’s the only one back there right now. Everyone else is at lunch. Just go on back, you’ll see him."

Schmidt and O’Neil walked into the mail room and saw Rodriguez. They walked over to him and Schmidt said,

"Pete Rodriguez, I’m Detective Schmidt and this is Detective O’Neil. We’re gonna ask you some questions about the gallery murders and the painting thefts but first we’ll tell you your rights." O’Neil read Pete the Miranda Rights.

Pete slammed his fist down on the sorting table and said, "For Christ’s sake, what the hells goin’ on? I aint done nothin’ wrong!"

O’Neil said, "Pete, if you cooperate with us, we’ll be able to help you."

Schmidt said, "Pete, have you mailed the stolen Monets yet?"

Pete became tense and he glared at the two detectives. He grabbed for something under the sorting table but O’Neil

had his revolver already pointed at Pete’s forehead. O’Neil said, "Don’t do it, unless you want your brains blown out!

Nice and easy, place your hands on top of the table and keep ‘em there!"

Schmidt said, "Look at this, O’Neil." With a pencil inserted in the trigger ring, Schmidt lifted a pistol from under the sorting table. "It looks like a 22." He placed the weapon in a plastic bag he had in his pocket.

Schmidt said, "All right Pete, let’s hear about the gig and the gun!"

Schmidt looked at Pete Rodriguez. He didn’t look so tough now. His hands shook slightly and he looked dejected, with his head down. He said, "I don’t want no trouble. The money was great. I was gonna buy a new car and some nice

clothes. All I had to do was cut the original paintings from their frames and staple the reps into the same frames. Then I rolled the originals up and was supposed to take them to

the mail room and mail them. The guard, Amos, turned off the alarm systems and I did my thing."

"Who did you mail the paintings to?"

"It was to Great Art Inc. with a Chicago PO Box. They’re still in the out bin."

"Did you shoot the guard and the woman?"

Pete looked back and forth at Schmidt and O’Neil. He stared at the detectives and finally said, "What’s in it for me?"

"If you tell us now, we can help you, tell the DA you cooperated. If not, and this gun turns out to be the murder weapon - well, you can see how things will go for you. You can count on spending your last days on death row."

Pete took a deep breath and said, "Yeah, the boss said without them we’d have more money to split and two less people to worry about telling. He said he’d pay me $1000 extra to pop ‘em."

"Who’s the boss? If you tell us, it will also help your case."

Pete’s brow dotted with perspiration and his neck muscles stood out in sharp relief. There was a long silent pause and then he said, "Wycoff!"

"Did he pay you yet?"

"No, he’s supposed to bring me my cut at 12:00."

Schmidt looked at his watch. It was 11:45.

"OK we’re gonna wait for him. But listen to me! If you want to help your case, you’ll do as I tell you! When he comes in, O’Neil and I will be hiding behind these stacked boxes. After he gives you your money, you ask him how much he was going to pay Amos and Barbara. He may get angry but that’s all right. Tell him you want more. O’Neil and I will take it from there. You got it?"

Pete nodded yes.

At five after twelve Schmidt and O’Neil saw Dr. Wycoff walk into the mail room carrying a black attaché. Pete looked up and faked a smile at Dr. Wycoff.

Wycoff said, "Hello Pete. Today’s your big day. It’s all here in my attaché." He opened the attaché and handed a brown lunch bag to Pete.

Pete looked in the bag and fingered the bills. Then he said, "How much were you going to pay Amos and Barbara?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want more money!"

"You worthless piece of shit! You’re lucky to get what I gave you."

Just then Schmidt said, "Hold it right there, Wycoff!"

"You dirty, cheap, bastard. You ratted to the cops!"

Wycoff aimed his gun at Pete and shot him.

Schmidt said, "Drop your gun Wycoff!"

Wycoff fired his gun again. The detectives cautiously walked over to the sorting table. Pete Rodriguez was on his back on the floor with a bullet hole through his forehead. Dr. Wycoff lay a few feet away holding a gun with a bullet hole through his right temple. O’Neil said, "Looks like Wycoff saved the state some money."

Schmidt looked in the out mail bin and found a package addressed to Great Art Inc. He opened it and found the three

Monet originals rolled up in three separate tubes. Schmidt called Dr. Morton and said, "Dr. Morton, I called to tell you the Monets have been recovered. By the way, it looks like you’re in charge of the Art Institute. Dr. Wycoff was the mastermind behind the thefts and murders. He shot Pete Rodriguez and himself to death when we confronted him."

Dr. Morton said, "I’m devastated. I’ll call a board of directors meeting immediately. Such nasty people, to treat Monsieur Monet that way. Thank you detective."

Schmidt was about to leave the main lobby when an older woman stopped him and said, "Excuse me Mr. docent, could you please tell me a few points about Claude Monet? Did anything exciting ever happen to him?"

Schmidt smiled at the woman and said, "Oh yes indeed, Madam. Monsieur Monet led a very exciting life. One woman died for him, another woman tried to forge his work, and three men killed each other to own his work. Some of his paintings caused alarm at times. Other than that, he was one of the most prolific artists. Unfortunately the Monet gallery is closed today. Why don’t you take in some Renoir!"