The Case of the Counterfeit Painting by Steve Brezenoff

Author:Steve Brezenoff [Brezenoff, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction; Stone Arch Books; Museum Mysteries; mysteries & detective stories; social issues/friendship; art & architecture; 9781496525192; 9781496525239; 9781496525277
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2016-07-12T00:00:00+00:00

“What happened to our friend?” Raining said, kneeling next to Amal on the floor.

“I don’t know!” the guard said, taking off his hat and scratching his head. “She was shouting about bees, and then she just passed out!”

“She’s allergic to bees!” Wilson hollered dramatically. “Why didn’t you help her?”

“Help her?” the guard said. His eyes had gone wide and his face red. “I didn’t even see any bees!”

With the guard totally distracted, Clementine climbed over the velvet rope and stepped right up to the painting. Finally! she thought.

But even face to face with the painting, Clementine was stumped. Ralph Goings was no ordinary painter, and this was no ordinary work of art. It was Photorealism at its best. Even finding Goings’s brushstrokes was next to impossible in a painting that was meant to have the detail and smooth finish of an actual photograph.

“Hey!” roared the guard.

“Oh, no,” Clementine whispered, bracing herself. Sure enough, she heard the big guard’s heavy footsteps coming closer, and a moment later his hand was on her shoulder.

“I’ve had about enough of you!” the guard roared as Clementine turned around. “You and your friends — even the Bee Girl — out of this museum, this instant!”

“But you can’t!” Clementine protested. “My mom —”

“I know who your mom is,” the guard snapped back, shuffling her toward the door, “and I don’t care.”

When he’d reached the exit, the guard turned to Raining, Amal, and Wilson, who were all still crouched together in the middle of the gallery. Amal was no longer pretending to be passed out from bee stings.

“You three, too,” the guard said, snapping his fingers. “Out of my gallery. Out of the museum.”

The kids had no choice but to comply. The furious guard escorted them right through the big lobby to the front doors of the museum.

“I don’t want to see you three here again. Got it?!” he shouted as they left.

“We got it!” Amal snapped. “Have a nice day!”

The guard huffed and turned his back on them to go resume his post in the special exhibit gallery.

“Now what?” Clementine said. She dropped to the sidewalk and leaned against the front of the museum, feeling dejected.

Amal held out her phone. “Call your mom,” she said. “She’ll let us back in, right?”

“Big deal if she does,” Clementine said. “There’s no way that big gorilla will let me get close again. And besides, it’s not like it would do any good. I thought I’d see something helpful once I got close to the painting, but I didn’t see any brushstrokes at all!”

“Do you think your mom might be able to spot anything weird in the painting?” Wilson asked, sitting down next to her.

Clementine shook her head. “She thinks I’ve lost my marbles!” she said. “She definitely won’t go check the painting, not after the stunt we just pulled.”

“She won’t have to go anywhere to check,” Wilson said. “I have an idea.”

Clementine lifted her chin. “What is it?” she asked.

“Do you have your bike here?” Wilson replied.

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