Merlot and art

T hursday. I bumped into him on Sainte-Catherine in Montreal and dropped my shopping bag. Apparently my ocean-blue eyes and blonde hair with runner-athletic build was his type. He was one of my many types which range from tall slim blonde Scandinavians to dark haired stocky men with a raffish 5 o'clock shadow. He apologized for the collision even though it was my fault for not looking left when I left the shop. He politely requested a dinner date for the following evening. Free food! I was delighted but insisted on meeting him at the restaurant he suggested.

Friday. Now I feel tense. The man is a total stranger - what was I thinking? I suspect this date will be the strangest I'll ever experience.

Dressed up in my friend Renata's slinky navy dress with gold necklace and three inch heels, I'm not at all comfortable. My normal attire ranges from jeans and sneakers to jogging outfits. My only "jewelry" is a sports watch.

I'm sitting in an elegant Montreal restaurant with burgundy walls, tables covered in matching linen tableclothes with cream napkins lit by candles and dimmed chandeliers.

The black haired man who looks about 35 walks in, wearing a dark gray suit. He sees me and his pace quickens. The maitre d' who has been seating an older couple hurries toward him but stops when I wave at Walter. My date sits down and notices my glass of ice water. "Am I late?"

"No, I arrived earlier than I expected and decided to come in and select a table."

Our server lights the candle and passes a menu to each of us. "For your entreé, I suggest our foie gras with green beans in duck jus."

Walter looks at me with raised eyebrows.

"I'd enjoy a garden salad," I state boldly, "How about you, Walter?"

Walter smiles and orders two garden salads followed by grilled chicken with Mediterranean grilled peppers, mushrooms and zucchini. A glass of Merlot would be a perfect accompaniment.

Our conversation probes for mutual interests in music and art. Ah, art! Our favorite painters and paintings seen at exhibitions in Montreal and small venues in the eastern townships. The superb art in le Louvre and Musée d'Orsay, National Gallery in Ottawa and in London. My desire to visit New York City's Metropolitan Museum of Art. Time passes, the wine flows. One glass, another glass of Merlot, even a third glass with the assorted cheese platter.

Finally, the meal had come to an end. Would I like to see the excellent copies of a few Flemish paintings he had? Naturally, this was not to be misconstrued as an attempt at seduction . . . unless I wished. He winked.

Oh, I never felt seduction was appropriate on a first date but paintings could not be resisted. So we took a taxi to his home. The paintings gracing the living room walls are beautiful. I stand and gaze at them. I wonder: Are they truly reproductions painted by Walter's 'good friend' or are they originals that had been stolen and replaced by reproductions? I love art but have no idea what Walter is up to. He offers another glass of Merlot to enjoy during the viewing. While he is in the kitchen, I quickly hide bugs in his living room and dining area and text "done" to Renata.

My phone trills; I answer and agree to be picked up by Renata and her fiancé. "I'm sorry to dash away but this will be convenient all around, Walter. You have my phone number." I kiss him and thank him for a wonderful evening as I leave.

Yes, my friend Renata of the integrated art crime investigation team of the RCMP and Quebec provincial police will be pleased at my success in bugging their suspect's home. Much to my surprise, I had enjoyed the whole evening but acting as an undercover agent is stressful for this fine arts student.