Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

neck. “Yeah? I want to hear about it in breathless detail. Really breathless.”
    “I checked my e-mail while you were driving.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Be still my beating heart.”
    “You’d be excited if you knew how rarely I check it,” he said.
    “Okay. I’m excited.” She nibbled.
    So did he.
    “Susa has been on the phone with Savoy Forrest,” he said. “You now have unlimited access to the ranch to paint for your show in November. So if it’s not raining, we’ll paint for a while and wait to see what Rarities and Susa have come up with in the way of gallery owners in L.A. and San Francisco to talk to.”
    “Unlimited access,” she murmured, running her finger inside the collar of his T-shirt. “Now there’s a thought to raise my heart rate.”
    “Tomorrow we see if the Savoy Museum will lend us one or more of their original Martens so that Rarities can compare them to your inheritance. It will help if you’re suitably impressed by how well they’re displaying the three paintings from the auction.”
    “That sounds like Susa.”
    “Direct quote.”
    “Then we’ll put together a list of—”
    Lacey’s cell phone rang, cutting Ian off. He hooked his hand under the strap of the big sack that passed for her purse and dumped it in her lap. She pulled out her phone.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi, Lacey. It’s Tom, Shayla’s brother.”
    “Did Shayla finally surface? She hasn’t called me yet.”
    “No. I don’t expect to hear from her for at least three more days.” He hesitated. “I’m afraid I’ve got more bad news for you. The fire department just called. There’s been a fire at the storage yard. We lost four units, including yours. Would have lost more if it wasn’t for the rain and the fact that the fire station is only a half mile away.”
    “Please, tell me no one was hurt,” she said starkly.
    Ian watched her with night-dark eyes.
    “Not even a scratch,” Tom said. “I just wanted to alert you so that you can prepare a list for my insurer. No rush. Some time in the next few days is fine.”
    “Was 408 burned?” she asked.
    “Nope. Way down at the other end and across the yard. We just lost the units above and next to yours.”
    She breathed out raggedly. “All right. Thank God no one was hurt. I’ll get the list to you.”
    Ian waited until she ended the call. “What?”
    “You remember all those hanging threads you talked about?”
    “Yeah.”
    “One of them set fire to the storage unit.”

Savoy Hotel
    Tuesday morning
64
    I t had been as bad a night’s sleep as Lacey could ever remember having. Fires, wrecks, drownings, and a feeling of being hunted through each of the ways to die. Dreams as dark as her grandfather’s paintings. Fear as real as her own racing heart.
    The cynical suspicion in the eyes of the cops who had questioned her repeatedly concerning her whereabouts during the time preceding the fire in Tom’s storage yard hadn’t helped. The reasonable part of her didn’t blame the police for asking. Two fires in such a short time stretched belief. The emotional part of her wanted to scream at them to quit wasting time with her and find the real arsonist.
    She poured herself some more coffee. She didn’t need it, didn’t want it, and couldn’t think of anything else to do. The breakfast she hadn’t eaten sure didn’t appeal to her. She could barely stand to sit near the cold scrambled eggs and toast.
    Ian looked at Lacey’s hollow eyes and pale lips and wanted nothing more than to get his hands on whoever was making her life hell.
    “It’s supposed to clear up later,” he said. “Want to go paint something wonderful after we go to the Savoy Museum?”
    Automatically Lacey looked at her watch. Even its outrageous chartreuse dinosaur didn’t make her smile. “I’ve got to get that list of the unit’s contents to Tom.”
    “Put the paintings on it,” Ian said.
    Her head snapped up. “What?”
    “Tell them you lost several hundred unsigned and therefore uninsurable, valueless paintings in addition to the list of goods for Lost Treasures Found.”
    Lacey drew a deep, slow breath. “This pretty well puts the shop under. No stock. No insurance money because no insurer is going to pay off after two fires in a row. And do you really think the arsonist didn’t get inside and see the empty racks?”
    “I don’t know.” The cops sure hadn’t been any help with details. “But we don’t have anything to lose either way. If the guy got