Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Except for Delphine,” Mina growled.
Henrik pretended not to hear. What an ass.
Mina went on pacing. “What about Baumann and Dobrov? You’re not worried about them coming after us or demanding an investigation?”
“Nah. As far as they know, you three died in the fire,” Bene said cheerily.
My dragon snarled viciously.
Roux didn’t seem offended by the comment. “They’ll assume the paintings were lost in the fire. And Baumann won’t encourage a detailed police investigation, because he can’t admit to keeping anyone prisoner or inviting an illicit art dealer to his party. That would ruin his reputation.”
Mina scoffed. “Reputation? He’s the worst kind of criminal.”
“Well, that’s the way the world works,” Bene said, digging into his eggs and toast.
We absorbed that cheery message in glum silence.
But birds sang from the trees, and the wind whispered through the olive grove.
The sun warmed my face, and Mina’s presence did too.
So, maybe the world didn’t run on such a shitty premise after all.
At least, not entirely. There was peace and beauty to be found in it too. Maybe even love.
The next time Mina paced by, I caught her hand and held it.
She flashed a tiny smile and wrapped both her hands around mine.
“Anyway, enjoy the painting while you can,” Bene mumbled to Mina while chewing away. “We’ll have to hand it over to Gordon soon.”
She glanced toward the cottage, murmuring, “Maybe not.”
Uh-oh. Now what?
Roux shot her a long-suffering look. “I know it’s important to you, but…”
She walked off. “I’ll be right back.”
The moment she was out of sight, Roux groaned. “God, she kills me.”
Ha. I could say the same thing, but in a good way.
Bene laughed. “She’s tough, smart, and unpredictable. What’s not to love?” He shoved another forkful of food into his mouth. “Plus, life has been way more entertaining with her around. I think we should add her to the team permanently.”
“No way,” Roux, Henrik, and I all barked at the same time.
At least we agreed on the what, if not the why.
Bene shushed us. “Careful. Here she comes.”
Roux groaned. “You sound like you’re in fourth grade with a substitute teacher around.”
“Fifth grade,” I growled. When were they going to get that straight?
“Catch,” Mina said, tossing Henrik the small wooden box she’d retrieved from the fire.
He snatched it out of the air and held it like a precious artifact.
“And remember our deal,” Mina barked, looking at him sternly.
Deal? I didn’t like the sound of that.
Henrik slipped the box under his jacket, muttering, “I’ll remember.”
“What’s—” Bene started.
Mina shook her head. “Don’t ask.”
Then she held up two paintings — the blurry Van Gogh and whatever the other one was — and propped both on a windowsill.
“Van Gogh’s The Painter on the Road to Tarascon. The real thing, I’m pretty sure.” Then she pointed to the other painting, a wintery landscape. “Monet’s Thaw. Not the real thing, but a good copy.”
Everyone waited. And waited…
“And your point is…?” Roux finally said.
Mina flashed that they kill me with their idiocy expression she did so well.
“Gordon and his client will know that most of Dobrov’s artworks were lost in the fire,” she said. “But they won’t know which art was lost.”
Roux frowned. “What are you getting at?”
She pointed at the Van Gogh, then the Monet.
“Tell him you did your best, but due to an unfortunate fire that you had absolutely nothing to do with—” she shot me a stern look “—the Van Gogh was lost. But the Monet could be saved, thanks to your bravery — and his and his.” She pointed to Bene and me.
“And mine,” Henrik muttered.
Roux stared. “You’re saying, give Gordon’s client a different painting? Not the one he asked for?”
Mina nodded.
“What if he doesn’t want it?” Roux asked.
Mina scoffed. “How could anyone not want a Monet?”
I glanced at the gloomy painting. Well, me, for one.
Bene rubbed his chin. “It could work…unless they figure out it’s a forgery.”
“That’s the beauty of this situation.” Mina chuckled. “That would be Dobrov’s fault, not yours. You were simply following orders.”
“Except we were told to get that painting.” Roux pointed to the Van Gogh.
“Painting? What painting?” Bene quipped. “Oh, you mean the one lost in the fire when we were bravely rescuing a much more valuable Monet?”
“Exactly.” Mina grinned.
“All this so you can keep the Van Gogh?” Henrik asked.
Mina shook her head vehemently. “No. Well, yes, but only for a couple of months. Long enough that no one will connect it to what happened here. Then I’ll use my dad’s contacts to make an anonymous donation to a museum that will make the Van Gogh available to everyone.”
Henrik stared. “You’re saying you would give it away?”
Mina nodded.
“How very noble.” Henrik’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
Mina shook her head. “Not trying to be noble. Just trying to do the right thing.”
Months ago, I might have scoffed at the sentiment. Now, I etched her words into my mind.
Roux cut in, getting back to the point. “If you can figure out the Monet is fake, Gordon’s client could too. What then?”
Mina shrugged. “Again, not your fault, but Dobrov’s — and it implies the Van Gogh was a fake too. No one will be able to disprove that, because Dobrov never let an expert appraise either work.”
Roux thought it over, then shook his head. “Too many unpredictables.”
True. But, hell. That applied to everything in our line of work. And if we pulled this off… Just a few more months doing Gordon’s bidding, and I would be a free man.
“I’m in,” I said firmly.
Mina’s eyes bathed me in warmth.
Henrik sighed. “I’m in.”
“I’m in,” Bene said, then elbowed Henrik. “Pass the salt.”
Roux ran both hands through his hair, making it spike. A good alternative to tearing it out, which he seemed close to.
“You’re serious?”
Bene, Henrik, Mina, and I all nodded.
Roux gritted his teeth, then sighed and picked up his phone.
* * *
Marseilles. Two days later…
“The contract was for a Van Gogh,” Gordon grumbled.
Bene shifted from foot to foot, catching my eye.
“A Van Gogh. Not a Monet, a Manet, or even a Picasso. A Van Gogh,” Gordon emphasized. “I don’t expect you lot to have my goddaughter’s taste in art, but this is really too much.”
Bene muttered into my mind. What would he say about his goddaughter’s taste in men?
I shot him a look to kill.
“Yes, sir,” Roux agreed. “But unfortunately — might I say, tragically — the Van Gogh was destroyed in the blaze. We were lucky to get out with this.”
“Not lucky. Brave,” Bene added, laying it on thick. “Roux insisted we go back for it, even when the roof started to collapse.” He patted the tiger shifter on the back.
Interestingly, the fire didn’t seem to bother Gordon. He didn’t say as much, but clearly, there was bad blood between him and Baumann. He’d even muttered, That ass got what he deserved.
So, we didn’t have to explain the fire. But we did have to talk him into the Monet.
“Sir, if I may…” Henrik gestured to the painting. “This artwork has much more subtlety and depth than the Van Gogh. Surely, your client will appreciate that.”
I wasn’t so sure about depth, because both looked equally out of focus to me. But, hell. What did I know about art?
Gordon paced, regarding the painting from different angles. Eventually, he looked at Roux with a pained expression. “Monet, you say?”
“Yes, sir. Monet.”
The room went very, very quiet as Gordon looked at each of us in turn. Roux, I sensed, held his breath. Hell, I did too.
Finally, Gordon grumbled and pointed to the door.
“You’re dismissed. Considering this is not the requested piece, you get three rather than four days off.
Report to me from Auberre at this time Thursday for your next assignment.
” He checked his watch, then motioned for us to leave.
“Oh, and I expect the next job to go more smoothly than this.”
“Yes, sir,” Roux said gravely.
“And not a word to Mina, you understand?” Gordon added ominously.
Bene looked at me. I stared at the wall. A vein in Henrik’s forehead started to twitch.
“Not a word, sir,” Roux barked, using sheer volume to wipe any trace of the lie.
“Good. You’re dismissed.” Gordon gestured to the door.
“Sir, about our days off. I really think—” Bene started.
“Not a word. Out,” Gordon barked.
“Yes, sir,” Bene said, sounding glum.
I could see his eyes dance, though. We’d pulled it off!
We filed down the long, echoing hall of Gordon’s imposing villa a stone’s throw from Palais Longchamp and out into the sun. The nearest Metro stop was only a few blocks away, and we managed to keep straight faces for most of the way.
Bene was the first to break into a grin. “Three days isn’t four, but I won’t complain.” He smacked Henrik on the back in glee. “Three days off without you yo-yos. Paris, here I come!”
Roux muttered something about Toulouse, while Henrik slunk off, leaving us without a word. I joined the other two on the Metro to the main train station.
“You think Henrik will stay in Marseilles and try to make up with Delphine?” Bene asked as we pulled out of the station.
I had no idea. But one thing was carved in stone. I was heading straight back to Chateau Nocturne.