Coming Together

Helene had trouble connecting to the joy that many were convinced possessed them during the holiday season. It was one of the many reasons she rejected the idea of attending any festive gathering. She had not celebrated a single holiday in ten years. A tradition she was proud to continue. Mostly, because it had become less of a tradition and more as a method of self-preservation.

Her methods of crafting her best personas could come under scrutiny if she caught the attention of the wrong party guest. Unlike other events she crashed, she would have even less control over who made contact with her. It was a time for togetherness, after all. That means that one person who usually blends in with their lack of social ties would inevitably stand out in the room filled with people closely acquainted with one another. It was much safer to keep to herself and let the holidays pass while she stayed comfortable in her cozy apartment.

But she had given herself a gift this year: a job. A challenging but incredible opportunity that was best attempted while everyone else in the room was getting drunk and distracting one another with their dull conversations.

She strutted up to the glass doors of the Clarke Gallery, where two large men in white suits stopped her from advancing any further into the building.

Helene flashed them an innocent smile as she pulled out a thick piece of stationary with elegantly written golden letters cascading on the white background. 

The Clarke Gallery invites 

Lisa Kemper 

To the privately hosted holiday exhibition on

December 23rd

The event begins at 7 pm

Helene’s eyes drifted to the bottom of the paper. 

Invitation required for entrance.

The men nod and allow Helene into the space soon to be swarming with the most prestigious and elite guests. Of course, they would have authentic invitations instead of forgeries. But it just goes to prove that no place is inaccessible if you are resourceful enough.

Helene pulls off her dark red overcoat and hands it to a man with a forced smile. She knew the look all too well.

A caterer passed by with a tray full of flutes of champagne. Helene grasped her perfectly manicured fingertips around one to take with her as she drifted through the room. 

There were already about a dozen guests scattered throughout the different sections of the gallery. Still, Helene preferred it to be more crowded so she would draw less attention to herself when she does her work.

During the next half hour, a steady trickle of privileged people in fancy suits and dresses passed through the glass doors. Each taking their turn being praised by the host of the event.

Helene recognized many of them. There were four CEO’s, seven politicians, and at least five media personalities. There were also several pretentious and overly smug people who Helene immediately identified as lawyers. Maybe she should ask for a few business cards while she was here, although she was confident she would never need them.

It suited her just fine that the prominent pillars of the community were here to stand witness to her plan. It was a brilliantly simple plan, she would love an audience. 

A loud burst of laughter at the entrance pulled Helene’s gaze, along with many others. 

The District Attorney himself glided into the room. His shiny black shoes, stepping onto the white marble floor. 

A shiver went through Helene. Not because of the District Attorney himself but because she recognized the person who followed directly after him. 

A dirty blonde, plain looking woman in a navy dress. The satin gown with the sweetheart neckline managed to disguise her rather inelegant profession.

Helene knew this woman very well. She had done her fair bit of research on the detective who had been tracking Helene for almost a year now. Of course, detective Laura Holland had never seen Helene. The detective’s only means to recognize Helene was a poorly constructed composite sketch from a scattered dozen witnesses. The figure depicted in the sketch shared very little likeness with Helene.

Helene had kept close tabs on the investigation since it was opened by the detective. They pieced together a great many thefts that Helene was responsible for, although it was nowhere near the actual number. But they had nothing. No concrete evidence. No leads. Not even a real name for their suspect.

Still, the detective’s presence caught her off guard, which bothered Helene greatly. Helene scanned the list of all invited guests four times to ensure nobody would know her. She knew the detective was married to the newly elected District Attorney. If she saw his name then Helene would have had second thoughts about carrying out this job.

Helene took a deep breath. She was too experienced to let this unexpected arrival distract her from her plan. Even if it meant she had to make some last minute adjustments.

Helene kept her eye on the detective as the detective joined arms with her husband. As long as Helene knew where the detective was at all times, then she could carry on just as she had intended. In fact, the idea of pulling off a theft right under the curious nose of detective Laura Holland was starting to excite Helene.

The party progressed with little thrill. Laughter and loud conversations echoed off the walls that held some of the most expensive art in the city. Some of the paintings earned their value, others were rather unremarkable but had a value placed upon them from uncultured vultures who didn’t know any better.

Helene took special care to keep a healthy distance between herself and the piece she desired most. The contemporary sculpture merely the size of a lemon, yet it still managed to be the most expensive piece in the building. The owner of the gallery also deemed that this party of the most respected in the city is the one and only time that the sculpture, “Tide Rising”, be displayed without its case. It is still sitting on a plate that will sound an alarm if it is removed but for somebody like Helene that is hardly a cause for concern. This is her best opportunity to get her hands on the incredibly detailed miniature seascape. 

It was a shame she could not admire it before it ended up in her palm, but the cameras were her key worry. While she did her best to avoid them from getting a clear angle it was still in her best interest to not draw any connection to herself and the sculpture before it goes missing.

Instead, she focused her gaze on an exquisite painting in the corner of the room, far from the groups of people marinating in their mundane conversations. 

Helene sipped her champagne as she took in every brushstroke and color dictated by the artist.

“It’s a shame this painting isn’t given its due,” a voice stated behind her, “It should be in the center of the room instead of shoved in the corner.”

Helene nodded before turning to face the other admirer. 

It took every ounce of control for Helene to maintain her neutral expression as she locked eyes with detective Laura Holland.

Helene pulled the corners of her mouth upwards. The detective did not show any indication that she believed the smile to be strained.

“I couldn't agree more,” Helene responded, “It evokes such strong emotions. I especially love the way the artist uses colors to tell the story as much as the picture.”

The detective thought on Helene’s words. “I’m not an expert on art but for some reason this piece caught my eye. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s almost as if this is a dissection of identity.” 

“Well, you may not be an expert, but I wouldn’t sell yourself short,” Helene said, “That is exactly the message I got from the piece. It’s almost as if the subject in the painting is caught between an embrace and a rejection of the self.”

“It’s stunning.”

There was a pause as they both took in the painting. Helene could not help but steal a glance of the detective out of the corner of her eye. It was almost refreshing to see how transfixed the detective became with one of Helene’s favorite paintings in the room.

“You have a good eye and great taste,” Helene remarked, “Most people here wouldn’t understand the magnificence of this painting. Only what others told them of it.”

Detective Holland studied the painting before turning her gaze to Helene. “I don’t think I know you.”

“Lisa Kemper.” Helene held out her hand, taking special care to keep it from shaking. “Nice to meet you.”

“Laura Holland,” the detective replied, reaching out her own hand, “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

They pulled their hands apart in unison. Helene took another sip of her champagne. 

“What is it that you do Ms. Kemper?” the detective inquired.

“Please, call me Lisa. I suppose my vocation is to support the arts. Although I am lucky enough to have the funds to allow me to pursue any of my passions.”

“I’m guessing old money, then.” 

Helene grinned, slightly taken aback with the detective's directness. It was almost impressive. Then Helene remembered that Laura was a cop. Directness came with the job, it was probably hard to turn off even on these occasions. 

“Um, yes,” Helene replied, “Family money.”

“I’ve never heard of the Kempers,” the detective murmured. 

“We pride ourselves on our discretion.”

The detective grabbed a flute of champagne off a passing tray. A moment of relief passed over Helene as she hoped that this was the first glass of many for the detective. Things would go much easier if she was slightly impaired.

“What is it you do, Ms. Holland?”

“It’s Laura. Actually, it’s detective Laura Holland,” she stated, “My husband is the District Attorney and I am just a lowly detective.”

“I’m sensing that you are used to being looked down on at these events. Everyone prefers basking in your husband’s glow.”

Laura turned to Helene. “That’s an interesting thing to say.”

“I’m sorry if I offended you,” Helene said, resolving to not become a memorable figure for the detective.

“No, you’re not wrong.”

Helene cleared her throat. “If it is any consolation, I admire detectives perhaps more than any lawyer. Lawyers have their tricks but they are nothing without you. The basis of the legal system starts with the actual pursuit of the criminals. They get the easy part. They just have to talk to see if the system works for them, or if it doesn’t.”

Laura chuckled. A wholehearted burst of laughter that could in no way be described as dainty. It was quite infectious. Helene could not help but join in. She made note of all the heads turning in their direction, but she did not let it worry her. This is what happened at these holiday gatherings. People made connections and they laughed together.

“I think I’m starting to like you, Lisa,” Laura said before taking a long drink of champagne, “At the very least, you actually seem interested in what I have to say. Most assume that I am a complete idiot because I didn’t go to Harvard or Princeton or Yale.”

Helene leaned in closer to Laura. “This room is almost entirely composed of idiots. They just have daddy’s money to buy their sophistication which, unfortunately, is often mistaken for intelligence.” 

“You are quite perceptive,” Laura admitted. 

“I try to be.”

They turned their attention back to the painting in front of them. However, Helene did catch Laura’s eyes shifting in her direction every few seconds. 

“There’s my beautiful wife,” a man’s voice called out. .

The District Attorney approached and reached for Laura’s hand. They shared a tasteful peck on the cheek.

“Lisa, this is my husband,” Laura said, “James, this is Lisa Kemper.”

Helene put her hand out first which James promptly took. A strong handshake, Helene expected nothing less from the respected District Attorney.

The moment after the handshake, James ran his fingers through his dark hair. “I haven’t heard the name Kemper before.”

“They don’t like the spotlight,” Laura offered on Helene’s behalf.

Helene smiled as her confirmation.

“Then I wish I met more of your kind,” James responded, “it seems everybody wants to be known in this room if only it ensures they get to know all the other presumably respectable people in the room.”

Helene and Laura took a simultaneous sip from their champagne flutes.

“Which, of course, darling is why I came to get you,” James continued, “We have a lot more hands to shake and people to chit-chat with. It is too tiring for me to do alone.”

“Of course, dear, I’ll be along in a minute.”

James retreats, making his way to a group of men in suits. Its members consisted of at least one CEO and two congressmen.

“I suppose, this is where I leave you, Lisa,” Laura murmured, “Even though this short conversation may be the only interesting one I have this evening.”

A flutter of flattery struck Helene. She realized that in a different world she could see the two of them having more conversations. Maybe even one day a bond akin to friendship developing between them.

“I had a pleasant time making your acquaintance,” Helene declared, surprised at the honesty of the statement, “and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Laura gave Helene a smile. A truly authentic smile. Helene identified it immediately as it was rare for her to encounter one. Let alone share one herself. But she found her face doing just that. It was her natural response to the aura of calm that emitted from Laura. 

When she turned away, a part of Helene wanted  to follow if only to stay in her orbit. To linger on the edges of all her exchanges. Helene was overcome with how fascinated she had become in their short time together. Perhaps a large amount of that fascination came from the knowledge that Helene possessed and Laura did not. It was simply the thrill of conversing nonchalantly with the cop that was hunting her. That had to be the extent of the appeal.

She had remained stagnant long enough. It was time for her to make another pass around the room. Helene glanced at her watch. It was already after nine. Hopefully, with the champagne flowing, most of the guests would be adequately distracted by now.

As Helene walked slowly around the room, occasionally taking in the art, she could not help but notice a pair of eyes watching her. The detective, while nodding along to the remarks of the people surrounding her husband, kept her interest far from that interaction. Her focus instead remained with Helene.

It made Helene uneasy and delighted. There was no evidence of suspicion, it was pure curiosity. Helene was pleased she could make such an impression. But Helene became aware that it was not her intention to make an impression. Her plan relied on her ability to blend in with the crowd.

Someone next to Laura beckoned for her attention, pulling her back to the uninteresting world of the others.

This was Helene’s best chance. She made her way to the small sculpture. Reaching inside her clutch bag for an object that could perhaps be called art to a certain viewer. It did not have the detail or value of “Tide Rising” but Helene wagered she had at least an hour until the first person noticed that this may well be a forgery on the stand.

It was all about making the switch swiftly and smoothly. Both of which Helene excelled at as she had done similar jobs many times before. Yet this one was starting to feel different. Her excitement at making the switch was fading instead of growing. This was usually the best part of any job. The thrill of either getting away or getting caught. All the planning and preparation that comes down to a single moment. It was intoxicating. 

Helene stood by the sculpture. A sufficient crowd around her to hide her movement. Yet her mind was on wanting to return to where Laura could keep watching her. This fascination was getting dangerous. A new kind of intoxication. 

Helene did not have many real moments of connection with people. Maybe her hesitation was her attempt to wonder if it was worth it to see where this particular connection could lead.

The glass doors shut behind Helene as the cold air met her face with a bracing clarity.

She waited until she was a block away before she dared to look into her purse. She took a few moments to stare at the beautiful masterpiece firmly in her possession. Helene was a talented forger but she could never do the real thing justice. This artist was so certain in their identity and free from ambivalence that their art could never be faithfully reproduced by anybody else.

Helene closed her clutch. She took a deep breath of relief that followed all of her successful heists. Although this sigh escaped with a certain dejection.

In another life, Helene and Laura could have made wonderful friends. 

Helene continued her way forward in the chilly night. She did not want to linger on any alternative choices that she believed she could have made. This was her life. It was no use wondering if she could be any different.