Chapter 9
“Let me get that.” Vinnie leaves the room. Afternoon sunlight trickles in through the shades of the two large windows in the front of the living room. The fresh air, smelling of grass and flowers and breezing in through the open windows, commingles with the smell of coffee and tea.
“Are you okay?” William faces me.
“Yes. Were you able to check out all the rooms?” I whisper, sliding closer to him on the couch.
“I didn’t get to the study. Nothing in the bedroom closets. Totally empty.”
“And you checked under the beds too, right?”
“Nothing under the beds,” he says.
“You should have done the study first.”
“You can say that now,” William says. We glance at each other. What can we do now?
“The kitchen has one large enough closet,” I say.
The boxes in the living room are too small to hold the paintings.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” William asks.
“People dissing my art is nothing new,” I say. “I just didn’t expect Vinnie to accuse me of flaking out, so I wasn’t prepared.”
Edmund appears in the doorway with Vinnie.
“Edmund! What are you doing here?” I ask.
Edmund looks even skinnier next to the broad-shouldered figure of Vinnie. Edmund’s wingtip shoes click-clack as he crosses the floor and sits in a wicker armchair next to me. Crossing his legs, he smooths down his pinstriped pant.
“I’m interested in buying an Agatha Boonland illustration and the Versal. That Versal oil portrait painting is particularly exquisite. Vinnie represents them.”
“I just got the Agatha Boonland,” Vinnie says. “Luckily. I was relying on the Kimimoto to make ends meet.”
Suspicious timing. William glances at me, tilting his head.
“Are things not going well financially?” I ask.
Vinnie grimaces. “They could be better.”
Another honest answer.
“Here, Vinnie, I bought you this gift.” Edmund hands Vinnie a narrow box and says to me, smirking, “I saw the article in The Squirrel. They do like to pick on you.”
“They do.” As our glances meet, I know he’s the one who told The Squirrel. He’s got that glint in his eyes when he thinks he’s fooled me. Still, it doesn’t mean he actually stole the paintings.
“Maybe you should capitalize on that publicity,” he says.
“It wasn’t exactly positive.”
“It’s fifteen minutes of fame. Use it or lose it,” Edmund says. “Let me know if you want to reach out to my connections.”
“Have you now developed connections in contemporary art?” Not that I want to be beholden to Edmund. Especially after I told my sister not to marry him.
“I am all about connections,” he says. “I’d be willing to commission a portrait of me and Annabelle. If that helps.”
He’s surer of him and Annabelle this time.
“I’d do that for free.”
Vinnie picks up my portfolio and starts to look through it. “Which one was Jade excited about?”
I flip through my portfolio to one of my favorites but hesitate. I don’t want to be humiliated in front of Edmund. Still, once Vinnie sees my work, I think he’ll be impressed.
Vinnie carefully studies the photos of my paintings. He takes his time. I shift in my chair, waiting. My stomach clenches. William looks at them too.
Maybe William should try to see the last room, but it’d be harder with Edmund here. I telepath to William by staring at him, but it is not working. I bump him with my elbow. He shakes his head.
“You’ve gotten better.” Vinnie closes my portfolio folder. “But I can’t think of any dealers who would be willing to risk a show with you right now. Not immediately anyway.”
Edmund smiles. “I’m sure you’ll get there eventually.”
Some art school classmates were already represented by galleries and supporting themselves as full-time artists. I had been one of the stars at school, but I couldn’t seem to make it in the real world.
Vinnie opens up Edmund’s gift. “A fountain pen. This is beautiful.”
“I found it in a secondhand store near me that often stocks treasures,” Edmund says.
“I can’t believe you remembered how much I love fountain pens,” Vinnie says. “Let me try it out.” He pulls over a pad and writes with the pen. “Smooth.”
“I myself also prefer using fountain pens,” Edmund says.
“Try this one.” Vinnie strolls over to the sideboard where a long rack of fountain pens stands. Edmund joins him and tries out various pens on a pad on the sideboard. They have their backs to us.
My phone beeps.
“Where’s the Versal?” Edmund asks. “Miranda, have you seen it?”
“It’s in the study,” Vinnie says.
“Can I show Miranda the Versal?” Edmund asks Vinnie.
“Sure.”
Edmund tilts his head, indicating that I should follow him into the other room.
Hello, yes, we’re going into the study.
I glance at William and then chastise myself. I shouldn’t appear so thrilled to be accompanying Edmund into the study.
William nods and asks, “Do you need some help with the dishes, Vinnie?” He piles up the plates and heads into the kitchen.
Vinnie takes Edmund and me into the study. More mid-century modern than marine, a gold bar cart sits in one corner. A cool, teak Jetson desk is in the center of the room, facing the window, with a fountain pen rack that runs practically the length of the desk. Vinnie didn’t have this obsession when I worked for him. He leaves us to help William in the kitchen.
Behind the desk, on either side of the window, are two mid-century-modern graphic abstract prints.
“Here’s the Versal.” Edmund is mesmerized by the painting behind the desk.
I turn around to look at the Versal and step back. A shiver goes through me.
“You see it.” He stares at me.
“It looks like an eighteenth-century portrait of Annabelle.” The resemblance is eerie.
“Yes, exactly.” He ogles the painting. “I was tempted to buy it before, but I thought it might be painful to see it every day. Given that she chose David over me. But now … maybe.”
“So you’re here to buy it?” I ask.
“Yes.”
He seems very sure that Annabelle is going to choose him this time. It’s too soon. Annabelle has got to be hurting from David’s betrayal and in no shape to be choosing her next partner. But it’s not like Edmund is someone new. And he is good-looking with his wavy, brown hair and cleft chin, his lean build—better-looking than David, who works constantly without any time to go to the gym.
I casually check out Vinnie’s desk. A brochure for the Vertex art show is on top of a folder labeled Miranda Langbroek. Creepy. Vinnie seemed very uninterested in my career a moment ago. If only Edmund would leave so I could see what’s in the folder.
“You don’t have any objection, do you?” he asks.
“To you buying the painting?”
“To me dating Annabelle.” He stands tall, as if trying to impress me.
“No.” Yes. Still. But I’m not a love expert.
His eyes narrow.
Did Annabelle tell him that I said she shouldn’t date him?
Edmund looks around, leans close, and whispers, “I heard that your uncle’s Kimimoto is for sale.”
“What? How?”
“Through connections with some nefarious types.”
Only Edmund would use the word nefarious.
“You do?” I ask. “Why?”
“I want to be the guy who buys the next newly discovered Renoir.”
My eyebrows rise. “The likelihood of that does not seem worth the risk of hanging out with such people. But have you told Officer Johnson?”
“I take calculated risks all the time in business.” He interlaces his fingers, like the three of us used to do when we were kids to signal that we were allied together against our parents. “Don’t tell Officer Johnson. It might look suspicious that I know such types.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“I want to help you get your painting back,” Edmund says. “That Squirrel quote from the Vertex Art Exhibit curator was pretty firm that you need Playing Around 1:30 to participate.”
Say another painting might work.Use Takashi’s decoy strategy. “Yes.” I can’t. I can’t risk another painting stolen.
“You’ve got to get your painting back,” Edmund says. “You heard Vinnie out there. It really seems like this is your last shot.”
Tighten that screw right into my chest, Edmund, why don’t you?
“I know I’ve always said you should have stuck to figurative, but I do want you to succeed.” He looks again at the Versal and then at me. “I can say I knew you when.”
Edmund seems to have done a one-eighty to now become my biggest supporter.
“Should I try to set up a meeting with them for this week?” he asks. “You can pay me back when you sell your painting.”
“I’m touched, but how much money are you talking?”
“One thousand.”
“One thousand. Are you kidding?”
“Isn’t it worth that much to you?”
“The paintings are worth more. But that’s too much to pay for information. How will we even know the information is valid?”
“There doesn’t seem to be any harm in meeting them if they are willing,” Edmund says. “I’ll text you if they are. But it has to be just us. Nobody else. And don’t tell Officer Johnson.”
This sounds so suspicious.Like something from a movie. But it’s an opening that might reveal a clue.
“Okay. But offer five hundred.” I can barely afford that.
He pushes open the door to leave the study. But … the closet. So close.
“Is this the bathroom?” I open the closet door. This closet has two packages wrapped up in the corner. They’re bigger than mine or my uncle’s, but the extra length could be Bubble Wrap. “Just the closet.”
Vinnie and William enter the room.
“Do you like the Versal?” Vinnie asks.
“Yes.” But not that Edmund is buying it. “Very evocative. Where’s the Agatha Boonland? I’d love to see her work in person.”
“It’s not here. It’s back at my gallery.”
“I thought you came up to see it,” William says to Edmund.
“I came up to persuade Vinnie to sell me the Versal and give me first dibs on the Agatha Boonland.”
“It’s in the gallery. He saw it there on Friday when he visited,” Vinnie says.
“I had to think about it, but I can’t stop thinking about it, so now I know I want it,” Edmund says.
Edmund and Vinnie were together on Friday before the party. And now Edmund is here when William and I are questioning Vinnie. Are they in cahoots?
“Is your buyer upset about the Kimimoto?” I ask Vinnie.
“Uh … very much so.”
As if he didn’t have one.
“Actually, I haven’t told them yet. I’m still hopeful we’ll find it.” Vinnie looks at Edmund. “I didn’t want them to go off and buy a different painting with the money needed for this one.”
“Miranda was looking for the bathroom,” Edmund says.
“Yes, but I opened your closet door by accident. Are you selling those paintings?” Let’s see if that throws him.
“Those are my two favorite paintings here, 888 and 99,” Vinnie says. “I don’t leave them here when the house is rented. I bring them back to the city.”
No sign of concern.
I leave to go to the bathroom. Keeping to the nautical theme, the bathroom is a very dark blue with white towels. A round buoy hangs above the towel rack next to the porthole mirror. But the baseboard is worn and needs a paint job. A crack in the window glass is taped over. I could wait in the bathroom until they pass and then inspect the paintings in the closet. But I’d have to rip the wrapping. Too obvious. I dry my hands. Not knowing is going to kill me. I could put the tracking device on them, but it’s big and it would definitely be found when the paintings were unwrapped. Still, it seems worth it.
I leave the bathroom. They are all talking in the living room. I dash into the study, softly open the closet door, and slip the tracking device under the Bubble Wrap, fitting it against the frame of the painting to hide its bulk.
I join them in the living room.
“Do you want to have dinner with us?” Vinnie asks.
“No, I think we’d better get back,” I say. William starts next to me.
We say goodbye and get into William’s car. The smell of smoke from a nearby chimney drifts over.
“I thought for sure you’d want to go with them and question them some more.” He buckles his seat belt.
“No, we should go back and check out those paintings once they’ve gone off to the restaurant.”
William’s head whips around to face me. “Are you crazy?”
“Slightly. But c’mon, two paintings were there.”
“You heard him. His explanation made sense. He didn’t look like he was lying.”
“It’s going to drive me crazy.”
“His house has an alarm system. We can’t break in.”
“You don’t have to break in. I’ll do it.”
“If I’m the getaway car, I’m an accessory. No.” William pulls out his phone and dials a number.
“Who are you calling?”
“Takashi. He’ll know Vinnie’s favorite paintings. Uncle Takashi? We’re outside Vinnie’s house.” William explains that we saw two wrapped-up paintings in the closet and how Vinnie responded. He murmurs goodbye and hangs up. “Those are Vinnie’s favorite paintings. He doesn’t know if Vinnie travels back and forth with them between houses, but he could.”
“You don’t have to be the getaway car. I’ll take the train home.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. We came up here to see if he stole the two paintings, and there are two wrapped paintings in his closet. And you want to go home and not check them out.” How disappointing. I thought he’d have more spunk than this.
“Check it out? That’s a nice euphemism. Break into an alarmed house and get videotaped by his security cameras. Then we unwrap some packaging, which we probably won’t be able to rewrap the same,” William says in a clipped voice. But then he adds in a lighter tone, “And I thought he was telling the truth about those paintings.”
“He has video cameras?”
“Yes. Up in the corner of the foyer, aimed at the entranceway. Maybe that’s how he maintains security when he’s away.”
A video of me breaking into a house posted in The Squirrel would not be good. Shit. I close my eyes, lean my head against the headrest, take a deep breath, and count to ten in my head. Let it go.
“Okay,” I say. “I’m frustrated.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s not your fault. You’re right. I don’t need a breaking-and-entering charge on my record.”
“How much are the Versal and Boonland worth?” William asks. “Do those two sales make up for the loss of the Kimimoto?”
“I don’t think so. Maybe one hundred thousand dollars tops together.”
“Should we drive home now?” he asks gently.
I look away, out the window. Other single-family homes line the street. A jailbreaker friend is probably a total anachronism to him.
“But it is weird that Edmund drove up here to persuade Vinnie to give him first dibs,” William says. “Wouldn’t a call suffice?”
“I think he wants to buy the Versal and take it home today. Edmund is a real collector character. And I meet a lot of collectors of art, obviously. It’s like a visceral need to have it right then. And with Edmund, because his mom died when he was so young, I’ve always thought that for him, collecting is like a protection against death. He’s creating this collection that will outlast him.”
“That’s very perceptive.”
“Not particularly. I read it somewhere when I was studying what makes people collect art. I thought it was something I should know as an artist.” I shrug.
“It’s still weird. Especially since they were together on Friday before the party. It makes me think that they might be working together.”
“I thought the same thing. But Vinnie admitted he has financial problems. And he values his reputation. But I got the feeling he still resents that I rejected him.” I clasp my hands in my lap.
“He was certainly nasty about your paintings, and that remark about his advice was not cool. But it doesn’t make sense. He’d make more money on commission without the risk of jail.”
“The whole thing doesn’t make sense,” I say, frustrated. “You know, the window was open in the living room. You drive down to that parking lot by the ski rental place, and I’ll just sneak back and listen under the window. I didn’t know that Vinnie and Edmund were so close.”
“Do you really expect them to be sitting there, discussing this? ‘Hey Vinnie, so where are you hiding the Kimimoto? Do we have any buyers yet?’”
“I didn’t expect to see Edmund here at all. They’re full of surprises. Anyway, it’s a half hour tops, and I won’t feel as bad about the fact that the two wrapped paintings in the closet could be the ones we’re looking for.”
“Okay.” He pats my arm.
“Okay?”
“Okay.” He waves his hand in a go motion.
I unlock my door and run to hide behind a tree. He starts the car and drives away. Mosquitoes buzz around my head. Maybe this wasn’t my most brilliant idea.