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Chapter 10: A Journal Entry

Eddie called later that day, a few hours after Nikola returned from the law office. She sounded very excited.

"I just got the strangest call from Donna. She wants us to meet at the Maple immediately, and she asked for you specifically. You must have made quite an impression on her," Eddie said.

"I just listened to what she had to say with a sympathetic ear, as any friend should," Nikola replied.

"Is this a comment on me?"

"I didn't say anything about you, but you did practically ignore her last time we were there."

"That's only cuz I've heard it a thousand times before. He died three weeks ago, and she's been talking about nothing else. It gets old after a while, it's the same old gripes over and over again. Anyway, Donna wants to meet with us right away, she thinks she has proof that Marty was murdered."

"Really?" Nikola wondered what that could possibly be.

"That's what she said, and this I gotta see."

"I'll meet you there."

Nikola and Eddie arrived at the Maple Bar within fifteen minutes of hanging up their respective phones. Donna was already there, waiting at a table in the back, and Brian stepped in just behind them. Everyone entered the bar with anticipation, but it was most obvious on Eddie, who practically ran to Donna's table.

As they approached the table, Nikola couldn't help but notice that Donna had been crying again recently. Her eyes were red and swollen, and there were still tear stains on her face, despite frequent dabs with the tissue in her hand. On the table in front of her was an open typing-paper box. Nikola noticed an assortment of hand-written pages inside, an odd collection of what looked like notes scrawled on all different types of paper, as if created in a rush, on whatever paper was around. Once everyone was seated, Donna handed the top three sheets to Nikola, and gestured for her to read. Nikola leaned over and shared them with Eddie, who was sitting beside her. They read the following journal entry, dated the night before Marty died:

All day I've been working on my homeless portraits. I must have sketched in the features a dozen times, only to rub them out again. I find it incredibly frustrating. On the one hand I want to portray the wretched conditions of their existence as forgotten outcasts of our society, on the other hand, in most of the photos I have of the homeless I really talked to, they're smiling right into the camera - defying society's conception of them as helpless, miserable creatures. While most of them do seem to have no control or perhaps even concept of their surroundings, many of them tell another story. They rejected society as fiercely as it rejects them now. They are lucid, educated, and have histories including impressive forays into the rat race until one day when they just stopped racing. Their concept of life is alien and yet compelling - a bit like an artist's. But how to put all of that into a portrait? The most frustrating thing is that I can see it in my mind, but it all falls to pieces when I start to sketch it out. I suppose I will have to try again tomorrow.

Then, to make matters worse, even my attempts to get other stuff done today was frustrated. I stopped by the gallery in the afternoon to finalize exhibition arrangements and was thrown out. Literally - thrown out - I couldn't believe it. Cynthia wasn't around so I went straight to the back and knocked on Martha's door. I got no reply - as usual - I've never been able to hear anything through that door, and I opened it to find Martha and Alan arguing over what looked like a Monet lying on her desk between them. They started yelling at me as soon as they saw me and threw me out of the office, practically pouncing on me. I have no idea what was up their collective asses, but they were very uptight. I.e. nothing got accomplished for the exhibit, and now I'll have to go back there again later. I think this time I'll make an appointment - I don't need that kind of abuse again. I really wonder about Martha sometimes - she certainly doesn't make herself very easy to deal with. I can't imagine what she was doing with anything as classy as a Monet.

I've really missed Donna these past few days. When she first said that she was going away for the weekend, I was looking forward to the solitude for uninterrupted work time, but there's nothing like another artist to bounce around ideas with when things aren't going right. Plus, of course, I love her company - I guess that's whey we've been together for so long. The nights are much longer without her around.

When Nikola finished reading, she looked up, speechless. Donna had fresh tears on her face.

"It's like he's here talking to me again. Reading that journal entry makes me miss him so much more."

"It's obvious he cared about you a great deal," Nikola agreed.

Eddie finished reading at that point and passed the pages to Brian. She joined the conversation with, "Where did you find this?"

"I was going through his stuff... His parents asked me to. They want to take it back with them to Jersey... And I found this box. It was full of journal entries like this. He's been writing them for years. Some of them describe us too, our relationship. He really loved me. I had no idea how much. I can't believe he's gone..." Donna broke down into tears. No one else spoke. Nikola felt uncomfortable with the glimpse into another's intimacy.

When Donna regained control, she looked up and continued in a frenzied tone, "But the reason I wanted you to read this is because of that Monet. There was a big robbery at the MoMA a few months ago and I remember hearing that the crooks got away with a lot of small Monets. Martha and Alan must be fencing them. It would explain a lot of things - like how Martha can afford her expensive apartment and clothes It would also explain all her mysterious meetings and her total lack of commitment to the gallery artists. Obviously, Marty caught them at it, and they killed him for it! Don't you see? It's the easiest thing in the world to do. They could do it to any of us. No one questions an artist dying of a drug overdose. No one! They could do it to any of you, too. Don't you see... We have to do something!" Donna was leaning forward against the table, her eyes wide and her mouth quivering slightly.

When she finished speaking she leaned back and stared at Nikola and Eddie, challenging them to respond.

"Well, this doesn't prove anything," Nikola began cautiously, "but it does give us something to look into. We could perhaps watch Martha and Alan more closely. Did you consider bringing this to the police?"

Donna clutched the box to her chest and replied venomously, "I'm sick of the police. They practically laughed out loud when I suggested murder and I could sense the snickers behind their eyes when they questioned me. Besides, these journal entries are all I have left of Marty and I don't want anyone taking them away from me."

"Okay, it was just a suggestion," Nikola said, trying to instill calm. She thought Donna might jump up and flee at the slightest provocation. "Perhaps I can question Alan subtly. He seems to be interested in me."

"Do be careful. That might be dangerous. They are murderers, after all," Donna cautioned dramatically.

Eddie rolled her eyes, "On the other hand, Marty sounded lonely and depressed in that journal entry. It's almost like he was ready to go off and try some new drugs."

"How dare you?" Donna spat back.

"It's what the police would say," Eddie returned facetiously.

"The police don't know shit!"

"I don't know, I think it's worth investigating," Nikola interjected diplomatically.

"You're right, of course," Eddie agreed. "I'm curious too. But it really doesn't prove anything.

"No, it doesn't, but it certainly brings to mind many questions," Nikola replied.

From the look on Donna's face, it was obvious that she didn't agree about the proof, but she remained quiet and guarded her treasure box closely. Brian listened silently, nodding frequently, but offered nothing.

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