"I-I-In the flesh," Cornberry stammered. "But isn't this woman over a hundred years dead?"

Dona Tela shrugged her shoulders. "Eet was kinda hard to tell with all the scarves around her head. But her face was smooth!"

I closed my eyes and took in this new bit of information. A smooth faced woman calling herself Michelle Angelo. This could mean one of two things: either this was an alias or there was a dead woman browsing the gallery!

"Hmm," I tapped my vape. "This could be a true revival of a long gone artist, or a clever forgery."

"You know what they say," Maria added with a wink. "True art never dies!"

I had forgotten how well Maria and I played off each other's wit. We even had matching detective quips. We could have been partners in crime, if it didn't turn out she was really a criminal.

"What do we do now?" Cornberry asked.

"Isn't it obvious," I said. "We go to her manor! Pay the artist a visit! See if this is truly a renaissance or we're still in the dark ages!"

***

It did not take long to travel to Michelle Angelo's manor. We didn't have a culprit yet, but we sure had a lead. A lead, that unfortunately, would lead us to our potential doom.

The Angelo manor stood three stories high and warranted a moment to marvel. It was a brick mansion adorned, painted and strewn elegantly with the bodies of male and female angels. All nude, of course. I'm sure the neighbors loved the free peep show. The paintings were faded, marking their age. They were truly as old and timeless as the artist herself.

As Cornberry, Maria and I stepped out onto the front law, I told the fop, "Secure the perimeter. We don't know if this artist is the art thief."

"How poetic," Maria said in her clever voice. "If she truly is the arte thief, what reason could she have for stealing her own arte?"

"We don't even know if she's really Michelle Angelo. Name and facial forgeries exist you know!"

Thees is where we differ," the master art thief said with a smirk. "I dream of the most fantastical circumstance for a crime. Anything can be achieved if you put your cabeza to it! Jackie, mi amor, you sadly prefer the lowest common denominator."

"Yes," I grimaced. "Because the lowest common denominator doesn't lead someone on when they're wasted!"

"Hey hey," Cornberry cried. "I like soap operas as much as the next guy, but the chief will bash our heads in if we don't focus on the case."

He pointed straight at the molded door in the front of the manor. "You two march right inside and interogate this suspect of your lives depended on it."

We both nodded.

"Yes–"

"Si–"

Briskly, we walked past a fountain with another nude male statue at the center of it. The water was coming from a place I'd rather not answer, but I'll leave it to your imagination.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

We arrived at the door. Pressing the door bell, we waited for a fair forgery or possibly the real thing. When the door opened…we somehow got both.

The woman standing inside the manor sported the same scarf and sunglasses. She was shorter than I expected. "Um, excuse me?" I asked. "We are detectives and we'd like to have a word with you, Miss…"

"My friends call me 'Chelle!" the woman said in a very high and young voice. It sounded quite girlish.

She looked down dejected. "At least, that's what they would call me if I had friends."

"'Chelle?" Maria said. "Senorita. You don't mean, Michelle, by any chance."

"Hey lady," Chelle answered. "I don't dig-a such a stuffy name. And why are you here anyway? Did my pops cause some trouble again?"

"Who is your pops?" I said.

"Mica Angelo," the young lady answered. "He is a real stick ina the mud! Keeping me locked inside all day and making me where this stupid Selma and Louis shades and scarf…In fact…"

Chelle removed the glasses and scarf. We soon realized we were talking to a girl no older than 14. Her wide eyes were a shade of marble blue and her brunette hair was thick and curly. "I just wanna see the world y'know! Instead, he's making me paint stuff all day."

"Mm… Senorita," Maria Santiago said, her eyes lightening up. "Can we see these paintings?"

"Meh," the young girl said. "They're not exactly cool if you ask me. Just a stupid art project. But if you guys are really detectives, I guess you can see."

I looked nervously at Maria. She held her head high. Seemed she was truly set on finding out what these paintings were. And when we walked onto the back patio, we could not believe the art that assaulted our senses.

We followed her through the foyer and put into the backyard. Two enormous slabs had light blue tarps pulled over them. My bated breath charged the air. What exactly was Mica Angelo keeping under wraps? Could it be what I thought it was?

"I hope my poppa doesn't mind that I'm showing you this," she said and she seized the oversized blankets.

Right before us lay the ceiling of Justine Chapel carefully laid out on the massive brick patio. Next to it, another ceiling, this one was half finished but almost a complete replica of the first. I was seeing double and nobody had whacked me on the back of the head.

"What is this?" I cried. We had found the missing artifact, but why was it here? Who had stolen it?!

"My daddy wants me to copy this picture for him."

I raised an eyebrow. "I think our friend Mica is forging the greatest painting in all of Noirberg with the help of this girl!"

There was a click behind us. "Very good. I see they pay their detectives a-well!"

We turned around. Mica Angelo was standing behind us. Several men in dark suits accompanied him. Sunglasses shielded their eyes and they gripped guns tightly in their hands.

"A little too good," he said. "I might need to cut my contributions to your department…starting with yours!"

"Father!" Chelle cried, running up to him. "These are detectives! If you shoot them you're gonna get in a lot of trouble!"

I raised an eyebrow. "He kind of already is…by pointing guns at us!"

Mica Angelo swore beneath his breath. "I thought I could pin this on the Dona Tela family."

Maria laughed casually. "You sure didn't do a very good job, amigo. Number one rule about being a bandito, you can't just point a finger at someone and say 'he did it!'"

Mica spiralled his finger around his mustache. His grimace indicated he was in no laughing mood.

Short fuses often lead to quicker detonations so I tried to prolong it. "Care to tell us why you stole your own painting? Couldn't you know, ask for it back?"

"Not with what I'm doing with it!" cried the silver haired Mica

"Uhm…" I said, "have a teeny bopper try to copy it?! You gonna pawn it off somewhere?"

"You see," the great, great, great grandson of Michelle Angelo said. "Thees girl is no ordinary girl!"

Chelle's eyes grew wide. "Father?! What do you mean?"

She ran to grab his hand, but he cruelly snatched it away. "I'm not your father. In fact, the truth is a lot more awkward and unpleasant. You leetle girl are-a Michelle Angelo herself, my great, great, great grandmotha."