Fired Up

attention not only of the police and Interpol but, in her case, the extremely irritating self-appointed psychic cops from Jones & Jones.
    Her job, as she saw it, was to track down items of interest and then put buyers and sellers in touch with each other. She collected a fee for her service and then she got the heck out of Dodge, as Aunt Phyllis put it.
    She glanced over her shoulder at the statue. “Nineteenth century, I’d say. Victorian era. It was a period of remarkably brilliant fakes.”
    “Stop calling it a fake,” Paddon sputtered. “I know fakes when I see them.”
    “Don’t feel bad, sir. A lot of major institutions like the British Museum and the Met, not to mention a host of serious collectors such as yourself, have been deceived by fakes and forgeries from that era.”
    “Don’t feel bad? I paid a fortune for that statue. The provenance is pristine.”
    “I’m sure Crofton will refund your money. As you say, he has a very good reputation. He was no doubt taken in as well. It’s safe to say that piece has been floating around undetected since the eighteen eighties.” Actually she was sure of it. “But under the circumstances, I really can’t advise my client to buy it.”
    Paddon’s expression would have been better suited to a bulldog. “Just look at those exquisite hieroglyphs.”
    “Yes, they are very well done.”
    “Because they were done in the Eighteenth Dynasty,” Paddon gritted. “I’m going to get a second opinion.”
    “Of course. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.” She picked up her black leather satchel. “No need to show me out.”
    She went briskly toward the door.
    “Hold on, here.” Paddon rushed after her. “Are you going to tell your client about this?”
    “Well, he is paying me for my expert opinion.”
    “I can come up with any number of experts who will give him a different opinion, including Crofton.”
    “I’m sure you can.” She did not doubt that. The little statue had passed for the real thing since it had been created. Along the way any number of experts had probably declared it to be an original.
    “This is your way of negotiating for an additional fee from me, isn’t it, Miss Harper?” Paddon snorted. “I have no problem with that. What number did you have in mind? If it’s reasonable I’m sure we can come to some agreement.”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Paddon. I don’t work that way. That sort of arrangement would be very damaging to my professional reputation.”
    “You call yourself a professional? You’re nothing but a two-bit private investigator who happens to dabble in the antiquities market. If I’d known that you were so unknowledgeable I would never have agreed to let you examine the piece. Furthermore, you can bet I’ll never hire you to consult for me.”
    “I’m sorry you feel that way, of course, but maybe you should consider one thing.”
    “What’s that?” he called after her.
    She paused in the doorway and looked back at him. “If you ever did hire me you could rest assured that you would be getting an honest appraisal. You would know for certain that I could not be bought.”
    She did not wait for a response. She walked out of the gallery and went down the hall to the foyer of the large house. A woman in a housekeeper’s uniform handed her the still-damp trench coat and floppy-brimmed hat.
    Chloe put on the coat. The trench was a gift from her Aunt Phyllis. Phyllis had spent her working years in Hollywood. She claimed she knew how private investigators were supposed to dress because she’d known so many stars who played those kinds of roles. Chloe wasn’t so sure about the style statement, but she liked the convenience of the numerous pockets in the coat.
    Outside on the front steps she paused to pull the hat down low over her eyes. It was raining again, and although it was only a quarter to five, it was almost full dark. This was the Pacific Northwest, and it was early December. Darkness and rain came with the territory at this time of year. Some people considered it atmospheric. They didn’t mind the short days because they knew that a kind of karmic balance would kick in come summer when there would be daylight until nearly ten o’clock at night.
    Those who weren’t into the yin- yang thing went out and bought special light boxes designed to treat the depressive condition known as SAD, seasonal affective disorder.
    She was okay with darkness and rain. But maybe that was because of her talent