5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Emilia
T he sun streaming through the windows wakes me early the next morning, as I realise I must have crashed out on the couch in my clothes shortly after getting back the night before.
Good thing I fell asleep where I did, though, because with my phone still turned off in the bottom of my bag, I hadn’t set an alarm for this morning.
I rise from the couch slowly, stretching out my stiff body before I wander into the kitchen to turn on the coffee machine on my way through to the shower.
Twenty minutes later, I settle back onto the couch, hair still wrapped in a towel, coffee in hand, as I decide to bite the proverbial bullet and finally turn my phone on.
I watch in dismay as the notifications tally continues to go up.
No matter how hard I wish it would, the world doesn’t stop and allow me to catch up.
I filter through the ridiculous number of notifications, dismissing any that are even remotely spam looking.
I set an out of office message on my business email, citing a death in the family for my sudden absence, and advise that my commission books will be closed until further notice.
I have worked my ass off to build up my business reputation for both the legitimate and forgery work I do.
I still find it hard to turn down work. But thanks to my business ethic, I at least have a nice little nest egg saved and can afford to take a few weeks off without either of my businesses being impacted.
I send out apology replies to a few of my regular valuation and restoration clients who are still waiting on timeframes for pieces I’m holding, and let them know to get in touch with my warehouse manager if they wish to go elsewhere.
They won’t, but it’s the thought that counts.
I shoot off a quick update message to both my warehouse manager, and Silas, before confirming some supply orders, and finally approving some investment proposals from my accountant.
Satisfied that I have caught up enough from the last few days, I get up to pour a second coffee before I finish getting ready for my appointment with the solicitor when my phone rings.
I contemplate letting it go to voicemail, but the name lighting up the call screen changes my mind.
“Hey, Si. I just sent you an email update, sorry I have been out of touch-”
“Girl, you know you don’t need to apologise to me, but I saw your email come through and thought I would try to catch you before you went offline again. What’s this I see about the police investigation bein’ over? Did they catch the person responsible?”
“No, they have ruled it an accident. They said he ingested poisonous mushrooms. But the thing is, Si, my father hated mushrooms. I swear he could tell even when they were blended into a sauce. He said they tasted like dirt,” I huff a small laugh at the memory.
“But there were no financial records of him eating out anywhere, or anything other than his usual groceries I guess, so without any evidence they have nothing else to go on.
It doesn't feel right to me, but what can I do? At least with the investigation over they were able to release him to the funeral home straight away, and those arrangements are all but done. Thank you for the recommendation by the way, Alister Green has been a great help.”
“‘Twas nothin’, cher . I’m sorry that you didn’t get the answers you wanted, but maybe it’s for the best. You can wrap up your business there and come home.
I hate to pile on your plate, but the buyers for the Monet are gettin’ restless already, and they are not people that you want to get on the bad side of.
” His accent grew thicker with his warning tone.
“I know, I know. And yes, you warned me about them when I first agreed to the commission, Si,” I say quickly before he can remind me that he was against this particular deal.
It was the first time Silas had ever hesitated to refer to me, and when I agreed to the terms he tried to warn me off.
We had our first fight over it. “But I can’t change that now.
A deal is a deal, as you say. I just need a little more time.
The funeral is set for next week, and I have an appointment with the solicitor today to sort out the Will.
But if you’re really concerned, I could see about getting air freight here overnight, and I could be working on it over the next few days.
..” It isn’t how I want to spend my time here.
I have enough on my plate trying to sort out the gallery and my father’s affairs, but I also know to take Silas’ warnings seriously.
“Emmy, the commission is high risk enough, yes? Let’s not add extra movements to what has to be one of the most recognisable pieces in history.
If it was seen or lost, then the world would know there was nearly a forgery of ‘ Impression, Sunrise’ out there, and collectors around the globe would start panickin’ to have all of their pieces verified. ”
“Okay, Si. I hear you. Just buy me one more week and I will work night and day to get it done when I am home.”
“Thank you, girl.” Silas hesitates before speaking again. “There is just one more thin’ before I let you go.”
“Sure, what’s up?” I ask, putting the phone between my ear and shoulder while I rinse my cup in the sink. I won’t have time for a second cup before I have to head out now.
“There have been some shady people askin’ questions about you.”
I go still at his words and put my hand back to my phone. “What do you mean, shady people? Who? And what kinds of questions, Si?”
“I don’t know much yet, but I’m lookin’ into it, okay. They didn’t come to me, but to some friends of friends, you could say.”
I know exactly what he means. The fine art community is pretty close knit, and the illegal art trade is even smaller.
Everyone knows everyone, or at least how to reach them.
Usually through a middleman like Silas. He’s protected me and my identity for years.
So, whilst my public profile as a world class valuer and restorer is well known, my more lucrative forgery business is a closely kept secret.
“Okay. Just keep your ear to the ground and let me know if there is anything I should be looking out for.” It’s my turn to hesitate before asking the next question.
“Do you think my father’s death could have anything to do with my other world?
” The guilt has been creeping in since my call with Detective Saunderson yesterday, and I can’t help but think maybe there was a link between my less than legal clients, and my father’s demise.
“Oh, cher …” Silas cooed sympathetically.
But his pause before answering is confirmation enough for my heart to sink.
“I won’t lie, there is a possibility someone found out who you really are and connected the dots.
I haven’t heard anythin’ bad about you on the grapevine.
Your clients have been happy with your work and your prices.
But there are some dangers to our business. ”
I let out a heavy sigh. It’s not like I expected Silas to say without a doubt that my other business ventures couldn’t be a reason. But there have also been no signs it has, so that has to be good enough. I jolt when I look at the clock in the kitchen. I didn’t realise how long we had been talking.
“Look, Si, I have to go get ready for this meeting. Thanks for all your support. I would truly be lost without you.” I mean every word.
“I know you would, girl. But that’s why you pay me the big bucks.” I can hear the smile coming through over the call. I haven’t paid Silas a cent outside of his finder’s fees for years.
“And you are worth double that, at least,” I say, smiling softly to myself before ending our call. I scurry through to the bathroom and finish getting ready. I’ll have to hurry if I want to beat traffic and get to the solicitor's office on time.