Gus could have spent hours more listening to the professor talk. But that would have to wait. “I’m sure the picture is great, but you really need to prepare yourself.”

“I’ve been preparing for this all my professional life,” Kitteredge said. “It’s a tragedy that there’s a death involved, but that can’t diminish the importance of this moment. Look-the curtain is starting to move.”

It was. Lassiter had pushed the button on the control, and the drape was sliding back slowly. Maybe he’d let himself get caught up in Kitteredge’s excitement, but Gus found himself leaning forward to catch his first glimpse of the painting.

“If we leave now, we can beat the line at the valet,” Shawn said, leaning in to him.

Then the curtain was pulled back farther, and Gus stopped caring about the picture behind it.

Gus’ first thought was that the velvet curtain had slipped off its rings and puddled on the floor. It was the only thing his conscious mind could accept as a cause of the large pool of crimson that had spread across the white marble floor.

But there was something else on the floor as well.

It was the body of a man.

And there was a sword through its heart.

Gus noticed that Kitteredge seemed to barely notice the body. He was staring at the painting as if trying to suck it into his brain through his eyes.

Lassiter kneeled down by the body, studying it closely. “Do you know this man?”

Kitteredge pulled his eyes away from the picture and looked down at the corpse. Then he reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a worn meerschaum pipe, and put it thoughtfully in his mouth. Gus recognized the movement from his brief time in class. The professor had done exactly the same thing every time he was about to make a substantial point.