Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

mind-boggling amount of pretty good art, some very good art, and a few paintings that made her realize all over again just how far she had to go as an artist. One of the latter had been Susa’s.
    They had discovered that four of the galleries were too new to have been used by David Quinn. Another three of them had only been in business for eight to fifteen years. The rest were old enough, but hadchanged management and/or ownership too many times for anyone to remember anything useful.
    No one had seen anything like the Death Suite before, or if they had, they weren’t talking about it. Everybody wanted to buy the landscapes.
    The twelfth gallery on their list was also in Laguna. The business was crammed into an old, much-remodeled Victorian on the inland side of Pacific Coast Highway. Just enough had been spent on ambiance that the walk-in customers knew they weren’t in a frame shop; the rest of the overhead was in location and stock. Franz Bischoff, Sam Hyde Harris, Paul Lauritz, Granville Redmond, Hanson Puthuff, Guy Rose, George Brandhoff, Edgar Payne, William Wendt, Maurice Braun—Lacey read the signatures aloud in a kind of a daze.
    “You okay?” Ian asked, wondering if the pressure of the death threat had finally gotten to her.
    “Yes. No. This is incredible. Museum-quality southern California plein air artists all over the place. Only a few of the paintings are major, of course, but all of the artists are.”
    “Whatever you say,” Ian muttered. “They’re all beginning to look alike to me.”
    “Then you need a break.”
    “We’ll get something to eat as soon as we’re through here.”
    “More hamburgers,” Lacey said.
    “Afraid so. They’re easier to eat on the road than fancy food, and we’ve got a couple more galleries in Newport Beach to hit before they close.”
    Lacey stifled a groan. She was used to fast food, but she was also used to having some green stuff from time to time.
    “I’ll buy you a big salad before we go to bed,” Ian said.
    “Are you a mind reader?”
    “Nope. Just a guy who’s tired of so-so beef, bad cheese, and worse fries. We haven’t had anything decent to eat since Oliver’s quiches.”
    “Did Milhaven ever call?”
    “Not since I last checked.”
    “When was that?” she asked.
    “While you were asleep in my truck.”
    “Don’t give me that long-suffering voice,” she said, determined to actlike everything was normal. “Whose fault is it that I haven’t been getting my full eight hours of sleep at night?”
    He gave her a dark, sideways look. “I wasn’t complaining.”
    She licked her lips. “Neither was I.”
    “Feeling real frisky after that nap, aren’t you?”
    “Yeah. Wanna fight?”
    “I’d rather f—” Ian cut off the rest of the word and smiled over Lacey’s head at the clerk, an under-thirty woman with a power suit, one-of-a-kind jewelry, and expensive red-gold hair. “Hi,” he said, “are you Mrs. Katz?”
    “No, I’m Julia York. May I help you?”
    Ian smiled. “We talked to Mrs. Katz earlier today. We’re a little late for our appointment, but we’re hoping not too late.”
    Julia took in the smile and the rest of the package, and loosened up considerably. “Mr. Lapstrake?”
    “That’s me. This is Lacey Quinn.”
    Julia nodded but didn’t look away from Ian. “Mrs. Katz told me to expect you. She’s up in the storage room.”
    Lacey wondered if she suddenly had gone invisible. Then she felt Ian’s hand tucking loose curls behind her ears before settling on her nape in a gesture of intimacy that was as telling as it was casual.
    “Lead the way,” Ian said, caressing Lacey’s nape.
    Julia got the message. She smiled at Lacey. “Ms. Quinn, Mrs. Katz is looking forward to meeting you. Follow me.”
    The assistant had a nice pair of hips and she used them to advantage climbing the stairway to what had once been an attic and now was a storage room for art. She passed Ian and Lacey over to Katz by calling out brief introductions into the interior of the attic.
    “Be out in a minute,” Katz called from behind a rack of paintings.
    Julia nodded to Lacey, gave Ian a predatory smile, and left without a word.
    “Whew,” Lacey said under her breath, watching Julia descend the stairs. “I was wondering if you were going to have to pull your gun to defend your honor.”
    “Guns probably turn her on.”
    “Scary thought.”
    “ You think it’s scary—what about me ?”
    “I think you’re scary,