Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘Hello,’ said Alice frostily.
She obviously still held a grudge over Liam putting the kybosh on their date, whereas I had a sudden desire to crawl under my paste table.
Oh God. What must he be thinking?
Ah, there’s Alice and her mate Jen – the latter who is odder than a mismatched pair of socks. She kept her husband in a plastic bag before tipping his ashes over a bush in a kids’ park.
I desperately hoped Liam didn’t mention to Alice that our paths had recently crossed. The last thing I wanted was the third degree about the coffee we’d had together, or Peter’s resting place becoming a topic of conversation.
Quick, Jen. Think of something to say. A conversational diversion.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked gormlessly.
‘Hopefully buying a painting,’ said Liam amiably.
He looked divine in dark ripped denims teamed with a white linen shirt. Very Mr Darcy. I had a sudden vision of him striding out of the duck pond, soaking wet, the female population swooning – ducks included.
Captain Mainwaring was looking outraged at potentially being done out of a commission. I glanced at the small print on his business card. Edmund Fairfax. The name conveyed old-money and suited his pint-sized physique and dapperness. All that was missing was an old-fashioned bowler hat.
‘Bit of a collector, are you?’ the art dealer enquired of Liam.
Liam shrugged.
‘No, not really.’
‘So how come you’re prepared to part with five grand? After all, you only have my word about this painting’s value.’
Liam appeared to seriously consider the question.
‘Well, first, I like the way the sky goes all the way from one side of the canvas to the other.’ I shot him a look. Was he taking the mick? ‘Second, I suspect it’s worth considerably more than five thousand, in which case it’s an investment.’
Captain Mainwaring – or, rather, Edmund Fairfax – momentarily looked like he’d swallowed a gobstopper. Bingo. In which case, one-nil to Liam.
‘It might fetch more,’ Edmund admitted, recovering slightly. ‘But only if it falls into the right hands and if it finds its way to Christie’s or Sotheby’s.’
‘Indeed.’ Liam smiled benignly.
‘So, do you have a preference for night scenes, like this one?’ said the little man, sounding increasingly peeved.
‘Actually, I prefer abstracts,’ said Liam mildly.
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. You see, I like painters who draw their own conclusions.’
I gave him another sharp look. Surely that was a definite wind up?
Liam turned his attention to me.
‘Are we agreed on the sum of five thousand?’
My mouth fell open.
‘You can’t be serious?’
‘Never more so,’ he assured.
‘In which case’ – I croaked – ‘we have a deal.’
Edmund Fairfax made a sound like a hissing snake, before stalking off.
‘What are you going to do with it?’ said Alice. ‘No offence, but you don’t look like a guy who goes for non-descript pieces such as’ – her lip curled – ‘well, that thing.’
‘The painting looks nice enough to me,’ said Liam. ‘And Jen’s husband liked it,’ he added, as if that was some sort of five-star endorsement.
‘Mr Loophole?’ my friend sneered.
I instantly reddened.
‘That’s a bit harsh, Alice,’ I protested. ‘After all, you hardly knew Peter.’
‘I saw him in the Starlight Arms a few times. He ordered lunch with a quid pro quo and a side of ipso facto.’
‘Now you’re making things up,’ I muttered.
‘Even so, he was rumoured to be the sort of fixer a mobster would have recruited.’
‘Take no notice,’ I said to Liam. ‘My husband might have been many things, but he kept on the right side of the law.’
‘Unlike his clients,’ Alice chuntered. ‘No disrespect to you, Jen, but I heard he rubbed shoulders with some right dodgy people.’
‘They were clients,’ I protested. ‘And nothing to do with me.’
Not if you didn’t count the likes of Henry Rumbold. Fortunately, Alice was then distracted by a woman who wanted a pencil drawing of her beloved collie dog.
‘May I?’ said Liam, reaching across the table. He plucked the painting from my grasp. I hastily shut my mouth, aware that Alice’s searing comments about Peter had left me gaping like a fish on a barbecue. ‘Cheque or bank transfer?’ asked Liam.
‘Bank transfer,’ I said. ‘Payment to the Starlight Society. I’m not keeping a penny of anything I sell today. Hang on a mo.’ I stooped and rummaged in my handbag for the account details. ‘Here you are.’ I handed him a piece of paper.
‘Thanks. Actually’ – he made to pass the painting back to me – ‘could you take it while I do the necessary?’
Liam pulled his mobile from the back pocket of his jeans. A second later and he was tapping into his banking app.
I observed him quietly, dumbfounded that my first sale had fetched such a stonking sum of money.
But I was also bewildered that the rugged Liam Lancaster had bought a painting.
As apparent masterpieces go, it was quite unexciting – apart from the heavily textured night sky.
It was a mesmerizing midnight blue and spangled with bright stars.
I cleared my throat.
‘Where will you hang it?’
‘Why, here, of course,’ said Liam. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, then once again relieved me of the painting.
‘Here?’ I frowned. ‘You mean, Starlight Hall?’
‘Yes. Or, more specifically, within the foyer’ – he winked – ‘of my apartments, when they’re built.
’ He then gave one of his blowtorch smiles that instantly had me all hot and bothered.
‘It’s been an absolute pleasure doing business with you, Jen.
’ For a moment his eyes twinkled mischievously. ‘See you later, maybe.’
‘Maybe,’ I said faintly.
Liam tucked the painting under one arm and strode off leaving me staring after him.