Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

Savoys?” Carl asked.
    “No. Just a suggestion that whoever painted it could be the killer.”
    “Is the case still open?”
    “It was ruled as an accidental death—prescription drugs, alcohol, and too much hot water,” Ian said. “An accident. Happens all the time among the rich and bored.”
    “Yeah, it sure does. Where do you fit in?”
    “I’m…” Ian’s voice died. The personal part of it was most important but hardest to explain. “The young woman, the one who inherited the painting?”
    “Yeah?”
    “She wants to know how it came to be painted, and why.”
    “Boy, you know you’re one of my favorite relatives.”
    Ian waited. When his great-uncle started talking about family, it meant things were serious.
    “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Chuck forty years ago. There’s something wrong in Moreno County. Too many deaths. Not enough police work. Ain’t nothing changed. Stay away from it, boy.”
    Ian thought about Lacey. “I can’t.”
    “Then clean your gun and watch your back.”

John Wayne Airport
    Sunday morning
49
    S truggling not to yawn after too many hours spent querying Rarities computer files and worrying about Carl’s warning, Ian was about cross-eyed. If he read one more breathless account of the Savoy Curse, he was going to puke. If there was any hint, any suspicion, any rumor of murder it hadn’t made print. Suicide, sure, it was between the lines in every story about Gem Savoy Forrest’s death.
    Murder?
    Never heard of it.
    So he’d taken it from another direction—finding out more about Lacey’s grandfather. Since he hadn’t been a powerful scion of a drunken family, chances were good that any dirt on him would have made it into public reports.
    Wrong again.
    Either the man was as clean as angel crap or he’d never been caught dirty by anyone who left a record.
    Which was another problem. Official records dealing with David No-Middle-Name Quinn didn’t appear until the guy had to be at least forty. Granted, the time before computers wasn’t as easy to access as after, but there still should have been something about David NMN Quinn.
    Burying another yawn, Ian waited while Susa and Lacey hugged with real warmth, obviously reluctant to say good-bye. He had a fistful of old-fashioned notes on a notepad in his denim jacket and a head full of possibilities that went nowhere.
    Like my investigation of David NMN Quinn . No matter how he tickled the data or the questions, everything leading back into the past ended up at a blank wall. Or maybe it’s just my mind that’s blank
    Ian shifted impatiently. He wasn’t a skilled computer researcher, but he should have been able to get routine things like date of birth, date of death, cause of death, driver’s license, tax records, and all the other numbers that made up a citizen’s life.
    I’ll try again tonight. The stuff’s there. I’m just thickheaded right now
    Susa’s luggage—one small suitcase and a trunk of painting supplies—was being trundled across the apron toward the private plane, but neither woman was in a hurry to leave the other.
    “I want to know the instant you find out anything about those paintings,” Susa said, her eyes intent on Lacey.
    “Since you’re paying Rarities, I’m sure you’ll be the first to hear,” Lacey said, smiling crookedly.
    “That’s not the way they work,” Susa said. “The art is their first responsibility, not the person paying the bills or the one who owns whatever is being investigated. It’s all in the papers you signed this morning giving them permission to examine the paintings.”
    Lacey’s smile faded. She hadn’t liked the part in the contract that made it clear that the truth, rather than what she might want the truth to be, was the sole objective of the Rarities personnel. “Yeah, that part was painfully clear. I didn’t know it applied to the guy paying the bills, too.”
    “It does,” Susa said ruefully.
    “Always, as more than one client has found to their sorrow,” Ian said to Lacey. “On the other hand, it means that a vetting by Rarities adds a lot of value to whatever passes the tests.”
    Lacey shrugged. “Value isn’t the point.”
    “It should be,” Ian said. “The insurance company is going to use thearson investigator’s preliminary report to hold up payment until it’s clear whether the fire was accidental or not, and if not, who set it.” Ian felt bad about adding to the problem by mentioning the