The tree--or maybe it was the gun--landed in the center of Ruiz's newest work. It wouldn't come off so he signed at the lower right corner. Three days later, the tree still clung to the painting. At the opening, Ruiz worried that it might fall at any moment and instructed Nikki to watch it carefully.

People milled about. A few carried handbags or cameras or trees, but most held a small plate of hors de oeuvres and a glass of blue wine.

Or so Ruiz thought, and Nikki hadn't been able to speak since she'd flung the gun in his studio.