Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Ed
Bess is late to Tuesday Night Art Fight, which gives me the opportunity to break my news to the rest of the group.
"My plan didn't work."
"What was your plan?" Lutek looks up from sketching. It’s of a kestrel he’s been fabricating into a metal sculpture for the auction.
"Dissuasion."
Elly puts her hands on her hips. "We didn't agree on that. Two of us voted for not telling her and rolling with it. And as you and Jeanette were undecided, that made a majority."
I hold up my hands. "It's moot anyway. We have to tell her. She's going to invite whoever's sending the letters to come forward so they can claim their share of the profit from the auction."
"Okay," says Elly. "So really you only persuaded her to halve the money she's going to make."
There's no point denying it. I pretty much did exactly that. "Yes."
"Except there is nobody," continues Elly.
Jeanette says, "Elly, sweetheart. Someone discarded the first letter, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember. But they aren't aware or interested in what's going on. Otherwise they would have come forward by now."
"They might if they know how much money's on offer," says Lutek.
Beneath her frown, Elly's eyes ping pong between me and Lutek. "I just don't get the concern. If Bess is okay with handing over a share of the profit, then what's the problem?"
"They could expose us, or threaten to," I answer. "They could demand the whole lot as hush money."
Elly's features slacken momentarily, then she gathers herself and gets back on the contrary horse. "They might not."
"But they might. They're a total liability."
She shakes her head. "It's still a small chance. They've had weeks to come forward. I'm telling you they don't know."
"I love your optimism and your confidence, but we have to tell her," says Jeanette. She looks around the group. "Don't we?"
"I agree," says Lutek. "We have to tell her."
Elly says, "But if we tell her that makes her part of our fraud. She doesn't know now. That probably keeps her safe if it all goes to shit."
Each of us silently appreciates how big a deal this is and how unpredictable the outcome could be. Or so I presume. Everyone's eyes have the unfocused look of imagining best and worst-case scenarios.
Sweat prickles in my armpits.
"You're going to do it, right?" asks Lutek, looking at me.
No. Yes. Every cell in my body is filled with a desperate resistance to doing it. "I just –“
"I sure as fuck aren't," says Elly. "I'm too young to take on that kind of responsibility and handle it with the kind of delicacy and maturity it needs."
"No," agrees Lutek.
Jeanette says, "We do it – and when I say 'we', I mean Ed does it – as soon as she comes in. Rip it off like a plaster. Brutal but swift. It's the kindest way."
"I'll do it," says Carlos. "I've been both brutal and swift many a time in my career.
When I exposed Margaret Thatcher as a double agent for the KGB, I only had a split second to decide to put her down.
I didn't hesitate. She had her finger hovering over the deploy button for the entire fleet of British nuclear warheads. "
"Do we have nuclear weapons?" asks Lutek.
"Carlos, my love," says Jeanette. "Margaret Thatcher died of a stroke at a ripe old age."
"Sheryl Jones died of a stroke at a ripe old age."
"Who's Sheryl Jones?" asks Elly.
"A sheep farmer's wife from somewhere near Llanidloes in Wales. Spitting image. Proved a very effective doppelganger once she wrapped her tongue around the accent."
After a brief silence, Jeanette laughs and places a kiss on both of the old man's liver spotted cheeks. "You are a wonder. Thank you for being you."
"If it's all the same, Carlos, I think it's...best coming from me," I say with all the braveness I in no way feel. "I did write the letters after all."
Before anyone else rushes in to save me from possibly the awfullest thing I've ever had to do in my short life, Bess pushes open the door and pulls her sculpture through on an angle so as not to hit its head.
Lutek rushes over to help her.
"Like a plaster," whispers Jeanette.
"Hi everyone," says Bess. Her eyes are bright, her smile wide. She looks exquisitely beautiful in her happiness and I am about to shatter it.
The group echoes her greeting.
I do not.
"Ah, Bess," I start, and will myself to keep going. "I've got...something I need to tell you."
Bess stands A Lettered Man at her workstation and pulls a bottle of champagne from the bag slung over her shoulder. "And I've got something I need to tell all of you."
Oh God. She's got good news. This whole awful thing is going to be infinitely worse.
"I'm going to go first," she says.
"I don't think –" I begin and Bess continues with, "The auction's up to nine hundred thousand."
Lutek gasps.
Elly says, "Fuck me."
My brain flatlines. I can't comprehend that kind of money for a piece of art one of us has created, let alone what this now means.
"So, I think we have cause to celebrate." Bess unwraps the foil. "Get your mugs out and bring them over."
Jeanette pulls out her phone and types furiously on it.
All our phones beep and vibrate at the same time.
And like some choreographed minuet, we look at them in unison.
Jeanette:
It's going to get up past a million!!! Are we sure we want to risk ruining the opportunity for that kind of money? I think I might want to change my mind again
I look up from my phone to see everyone else has too and is exchanging glances.
Except for Carlos, who's removing lint from his woollen trousers.
Another round of beeps.
Elly:
Put ur phones on silent 4 fucks sake
Bess pulls out her phone and looks at it with a frown. "Why are all of you getting group messages?"
"Ah," says Lutek.
Fuck. I have nothing. All my brain energy's been diverted to the new million-pound potential fork in our treacherous road.
"Because..." says Jeanette.
We all wait, in a mixture of hope and trepidation, for the rest of the sentence.
"Mistral's organising a surprise post-auction thank you party?" she continues in a volley of rushed words.
"Oh," says Bess. "Should you have told me that?"
Elly:
Good 1 now we have 2 org party ??
"How about I collect your mugs while you do whatever you need to do so urgently with Mistral?" Bess moves from station to station. "Make sure you let Mistral know that A Lettered Man is going to fetch much more than a million pounds."
Every head lifts from their phone to look at her.
"Much more?" says Jeanette. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because the reason it's already at nine hundred thousand pounds is because it's been picked up by news outlets."
"What?" says Elly, furiously thumbing the screen of her phone.
"It's not a main headline, but it's got enough coverage that my viewing numbers on TikTok are now over ten million and the gallery's website has crashed twice since yesterday."
"No. Fucking. Way," says Elly, looking at her phone.
"Yes fucking way. I've been fielding phone calls from journalists all day."
I need to sit down. This is either very very good, or epically disastrous, and either way, we are now far out of our depth. I draw a ragged lungful of air like I'm actually treading water.
"Lots of people want it," continues Bess. "Even if I end up giving half to the owner of the letters, I'll have enough with the rest of the money I've been making the last few weeks."
I type:
This is out of control. We've made a monster
Jeanette:
I want to say don't be so dramatic, but I think there's cause for dramatics right now
Elly:
We have 2 run with it it means a future for us for sure. no maybes anymore
Me:
Bess absolutely has to know now
Jeanette:
But if the owner of the letter doesn't come forward in the next day or two. They aren't going to. Right?
Lutek:
I'm with Ed
Elly:
She'll ruin the whole thing with her bad acting lets wait until the clues are solved
Me:
It's leaving things until the 11th hour
Jeanette:
Elly's right. We tell her once she solves the clues. She'll still have time to pull the pin if she wants
Lutek:
Ed?
I look up. All of them look back at me and I know this was never going to be a majority vote. I am the pivotal player here. Emotionally, I have the most to lose. And in this moment, I love them all for that bit of respect.
Fuck it. Bess is going to resent me whether I tell her now or later.
Me:
Let's wait until she solves the clues.