Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

Ian patted the matron’s armload of family pride. “I know Susa is particularly eager to look at everything you brought.”
    “But I’m…the line is so…”
    Ian was already gone, blending into the crowd even as he speared through it back to Susa’s side.
    The red-faced Goodman stared when Ian reappeared alone as swiftly as he’d left. “How did you do that?”
    “He smiled,” Susa said.
    Goodman glanced at her.
    “Killer smile,” Susa assured him.
    “Want a job?” Goodman asked Ian.
    “I have one, thanks.”
    “If you ever—” Goodman began.
    “If he ever wants another job,” Susa cut in, rapidly assessing and rejecting the first of the three paintings in front of her, “he’ll apply to Donovan International.”
    Goodman wasn’t stupid. He went back to lining up people and making certain that a name or address or contact number of each owner was somehow attached to every painting.
    Ian’s dark eyebrows lifted. “Donovan International, huh? Sounds like an order.”
    Susa half smiled. “My son Lawe said you were bright. What’s more important, so did Dana.”
    “I’m flattered.”
    The sideways glance she gave him was amused. “I don’t believe you.”
    “Lawe said you were quick.”
    She laughed out loud. “I like you, Ian Lapstrake.”
    “Now I’m flattered.”
    She stood, gave him the kind of quick, smacking kiss she bestowed upon her family males, and sat back down to study the paintings left by the matron, who was still wondering how she ended up at the back of the line again.
    “This one isn’t by the same hand as the other,” Susa said.
    Ian looked from one painting to the next. Flowers. Lots and lots of flowers. “How can you tell?”
    “A century of experience.”
    “Bull. You haven’t been around longer than forty years.”
    “Flatter me some more, I’m amenable. I’m also old enough to be Lawe’s mother, remember?”
    “I’m working on it. So tell me, is the Donovan as tough a bastard as his sons say?”
    “Absolutely.” She set the second picture on the table behind her, with the few she had decided merited more study. “Better looking, too.”
    “Well, dang. How am I going to win you away?”
    Snickering, shaking her head, Susa moved on to the third painting. “I wish I had another daughter for you.”
    “Something wrong with the ones you have?”
    “Husbands.” She tilted her head to one side and slanted the painting in her hands so that it caught the light from all angles. “Remarkable.”
    “Is that good?”
    “In this case, no.” She put the third painting on the reject table, looked at the long line of eager humanity in front of her, and questioned her own sanity for agreeing to thumb through Moreno County’s attics in quest of fine unknown artists. As a publicity boost for the Friends of Moreno County, it was a great idea. Now that she had to actually do the looking…well, she’d get through it somehow.
    “Time for a break,” Ian said. It wasn’t a question, or even a suggestion.
    Susa’s head snapped up. “Have you been taking lessons from my husband?”
    “Your oldest son, actually.”
    “Archer?”
    “Yep,” Ian said cheerfully. “He called and told me to be sure you didn’t get tired.”
    “Told you? He didn’t ask?”
    “Told.”
    “That’s Archer,” she said, but she was smiling a mother’s affectionate smile. “I’ll do fifteen more people.”
    It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a fact.
    In that moment Ian understood how Susa managed her hardheaded sons and equally hardheaded husband. She smiled. She coddled. And she didn’t budge worth a damn.
    “Yes, ma’am. Fifteen it is.”
    Ian stepped away from the table and began counting bodies. He had gotten to thirteen when he spotted Lacey Quinn.

Dana Hills
    Tuesday evening
11
    L acey shifted from one foot to another while balancing the three bubble-wrapped paintings and fending off random surges of the crowd. She glanced at her watch. Four people waited ahead of her, holding one or two paintings each. Maybe ten more minutes at most. Susa Donovan sized up paintings the way she painted—with energy, intelligence, and economy. Rarely did she take more than a minute with any of the canvases that people had brought to her for judging.
    But what really rocked Lacey back on her heels was the man standing between Susa and the crowd. Except for the suit, he looked just like the guy who’d bought an old Western poster at Lost Treasures Found a few hours ago.
    Nope.