Buttoned Up

Buttoned Up Read Online Free PDF Page A

Book: Buttoned Up Read Online Free PDF
Author: Kylie Logan
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths
the comment, he was still looking down at his shoes. No doubt, the atmosphere had changed since Richard joined us. I wondered why, and then I wondered about that argument we’d overheard earlier.
    Right before I came to my senses and realized it was none of my business.
    “Buttons are my business,” I told them and reminded myself. “And Forbis, your use of buttons . . .” Once again, I allowed my gaze to drift over the exhibit. I didn’t pause—well, at least not too long—when I saw Nev and Evangeline with their heads together near the vudon ceremonial drums. “It’s all amazing,” I said, and even I wasn’t sure if I was talking about the news Evangeline had just dumped on me or Forbis’s work.
    “He’s a genius.” This cheery commentary was provided by Laverne who scampered over to join us. She put a hand on Richard’s arm. “Need proof? Over there.” She looked over her left shoulder toward a man who’d just walked in and was looking over the brochure.
    He was tall and though I am not inclined to exaggeration, I will admit that my first impression was this—gorgeous. I mean, really. Hair the color of the night sky. A face that was all planes and angles. A sense of style that told me that while he might attend art shows, he wasn’t one to go along with the crowd; he was the only one who’d come to the black-tie-and-suit affair in faded jeans that hugged every muscle of his body and a black T-shirt with the name of a rock group called Silverlights emblazoned across the front.
    “Gabriel Marsh.” Laverne whispered the name. Or maybe it was a sigh because like me, she had an appreciation for true perfection when she saw it.
    “The journalist?” Richard’s shoulders shot back and he turned to look at the man. “We have attracted attention,” he purred. “Marsh only writes about the crème de la crème, and he usually doesn’t bother with regional shows.” He tugged his suit jacket into place. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go introduce myself. That is, Forbis . . .” When he turned toward the artist, Richard’s smile was tight. “If you don’t mind.”
    “Knock yourself out,” Forbis told him, and once Richard walked away, he added, “Please.”
    No doubt Laverne felt the tension, too. That would explain the smile that froze on her face in the moment before she shook away her bewilderment. “Are you ready to get started?”
    Forbis looked at me.
    “Say the word.” I slung my purse over my shoulder, the better to hold on to the box with the button in it. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
    Forbis was ready, too. Or at least he was once he grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server. He took a gulp and Laverne climbed the one step that separated the body of the church from the main altar area.
    “Ladies and gentlemen,” she made a graceful motion in our direction. Not at me, of course, but to focus attention on Forbis. “This is Forbis Parmenter.” The crowd applauded and Forbis grinned like a schoolkid who’d been kissed for the first time. “And he’s going to do something that I understand is a little unusual in the art world. You see, the exhibit in front of you . . .” Again she motioned, this time toward the strange collection of vudon artifacts. “You may not have realized it as you looked around, but the exhibit in front of you isn’t quite finished. It’s going to be in just a moment. And the artist himself is going to finish it while you watch.”
    I guess that was our signal because Forbis poked me and started toward the exhibit. I followed one step behind, not exactly sure where we were headed. When he finally stopped in front of the big box with Congo Savanne inside, I whispered a silent prayer. I hoped the one button he wanted to place wasn’t on the statue. No way I wanted to get that close to the terrifying thing.
    Lucky for me, the one blank spot in that whole sea of buttons was on the front of the box and now that I had an idea where to look, I
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