Hit List

paint-splattered jeans and a red bandanna? No, there you were in a suit and tie. Now where would I get the idea you were a corporate kind of guy?”
    “I’m retired.”
    “Aren’t you a little young for that? Or did you make such a pile of money that there’s no point in working anymore?”
    “I still work once in a while.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Consulting.”
    “Consulting for whom?”
    “Corporations.”
    “Bingo,” she said.
    “So once in a while I have to go out of town for a few days or a week.”
    “To consult.”
    “Well, I’m a sort of consultant-slash-troubleshooter. And a couple of jobs a year is all I get, so it’s not that far from being completely retired.”
    “And you’re all right for money.”
    “I manage okay. I saved money over the years, and I inherited some, and I was lucky in my investments.”
    “Doesn’t alimony and child support eat up a lot of it?”
    “I’ve never been married.”
    “Honestly? I know you’re not married now, I was just yanking on your chain a little, but you’ve never been married at all? How did you escape?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I dragged a guy home once,” she said, “back when I was still painting ugly pictures and sleeping with strangers. He was about your age and incredibly good-looking and just sensational in bed, and he’d never been married, either. I couldn’t figure it until I found out he was a priest.”
    “I’m not a priest.”
    “That’s a shame. You could be a troubleshooter for God. You know something? We shouldn’t be talking like this. In the first place, I want to keep this relationship superficial.”
    “Then I’d say this conversation is a step in the right direction.”
    “No, it’s too personal. We can talk about things, but not about ourselves. Nothing ruins everything like getting to know each other.”
    “Oh.”
    “Anyway, you’re almost as cute as the priest, and even better in bed. And you’re right here, and God only knows where he is, which, when you think about it, is perfectly appropriate. But why are we wasting time talking?”
    A little later he said, “I went back to that gallery today.”
    “Which gallery?”
    “Where we met. Regis Buell? I wanted to see how the paintings looked without wine and cheese.”
    “And a few hundred people. What did you think?”
    “I liked them,” he said. “The man can paint the daylights out of a tree. But they’re not exactly flying off the walls. I only spotted two paintings with red dots.”
    “That’s two more than Declan would prefer.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Well, all I know is what people are saying. It seems he called several people who’ve been collecting his work, and a few museum officials who’ve shown an interest, and he told them all the same thing. Come to the show, have a look at what I’ve been doing lately, but for God’s sake don’t buy anything.”
    “Why?”
    “Because Declan can’t stand Regis Buell.”
    “The gallery owner? Then why doesn’t he show his paintings somewhere else?”
    “He’s going to, now that he’s out from under his contract with Regis. This is his last show there, and as of the first of the month he’ll be represented by Ottinger Galleries. So Declan wants everybody to wait, so that Jimmy Ottinger gets the commission on his work and not Regis Buell.”
    “Will the prices be the same at Ottinger?”
    “Jimmy may nudge them up a notch or so,” she said. “If he thinks the traffic will bear it. He thinks a great deal of Declan’s work.”
    “And Regis Buell doesn’t?”
    “What Regis knows is that this is his last chance to make money off Declan’s work. So he’d want to keep prices low enough to make the maximum number of sales. Jimmy Ottinger can afford to think long-term. It may be better to establish a higher price for the artist now than to sell everything at a lower level.”
    “I guess it’s all more complicated than it looks.”
    “Like everything else,” she agreed. “And what about you? Why the interest? Are you thinking of investing in one of Declan’s mighty oaks?”
    “There are a few that might work in my apartment,” he said. “One in particular, but don’t ask me to describe it.”
    “A tree is a tree is a tree.”
    “This is an old one, and it’s a winter setting, but that fits quite a few of them. The thing is they’re all different, but when you describe them the descriptions all come out the same.”
    “I know. Listen, don’t tell Declan I said