Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

With an eye to the bottom line, he praised the ordinary and the indifferent, and emphasized how valuable Susa’s comments were to future owners.
    Lacey let herself be herded. Away from Susa there was a blessed anonymity in being one of the crowd musing over paintings. On the stage, Ian practiced his barely leashed junkyard dog routine while a smock-shrouded Susa painted what had once been called Sandy Cove from memory. She wasn’t going to let a thief stand in the way of keeping her word to the Forrests about donating a landscape of the ranch to the Savoy Museum.
    “Enjoying the show?” Savoy asked from beside Lacey.
    “Some of these paintings are amazing.”
    “Is that good or bad?”
    “Works both ways.”
    Savoy laughed and studied the painting Lacey was looking at. It was an unusual treatment of storm clouds and cattle. Energetic and undisciplined in equal parts. Primitive, yet arresting.
    “Have you heard anything more about the robbery?” Savoy asked, moving on to the next painting when Lacey did.
    “Since you ate dinner with the sheriff, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
    “At dinner he was acting in his capacity as former and future family,” Savoy said wryly. “Nothing official.”
    She glanced aside at Savoy. “Former and future?”
    “My sister is his ex-wife. They’re getting married again tomorrow.”
    “Oh, I remember now. Good for them. I hope.” Lacey heard her own words and winced. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
    “Don’t worry. We’re all holding our breath on this one.”
    For a moment they both stared at a watercolor that suggested seagulls in flight. Then Lacey found herself out of the maze and face-to-face with her grandfather’s forgeries.
    “I understand you have quite a few of this artist’s paintings,” Savoy said.
    “Yes.”
    “Might I ask how many?”
    She turned toward him. The forgeries were a subject she would love to avoid, but didn’t see any graceful—or even moderately polite—way of doing so. “Why?”
    “As I’ve said before, my father collects works by this artist. He particularly focuses on the darker work.” Savoy gestured toward the drowning pool.
    “No accounting for taste,” Lacey muttered.
    “You don’t care for them?”
    She sighed. “They’re brilliant. I just can’t see living with them on a daily basis.”
    “Them? You have more than this one and the one that was stolen?”
    Damn, not much gets by this man. “Yes.”
    “Since you don’t want to hang them yourself, and you have an ample supply, the foundation would love to acquire one or more for our museum.”
    “I figured that out,” Lacey said. “I’m not ready to sell.”
    “If you change your mind before the auction is over, I’ll give you one hundred thousand dollars for the pool painting and an equal amount to the Friends of Moreno County.”
    Her eyes widened. “Holy—er, that’s a lot.”
    Savoy smiled narrowly and cursed his father’s obsession. “Yes, it is. But art collectors are very passionate in their pursuits. And I am very passionate about pleasing my father.”
    Crossing her arms over her chest, Lacey turned and faced Savoy fully. “Look, I’m going to be blunt because I’m no good at being subtle.”
    His smile gentled, reaching his eyes. “I could like you, Ms. Quinn.”
    “Promises, promises.” But she smiled back. “Dealing with these paintings in a public manner is new to me. I have to get used to the idea of their value. It isn’t easy. And I have to be sure that they are valuable before I go selling them for thousands of dollars.”
    “I’m willing to take the risk.”
    “I’m not. I’m sending all of them to Rarities Unlimited to be appraised.”
    “Excellent firm. I’ll be interested in what they have to say.” He paused. “You’re sending all of them, even the ones that are here tonight?”
    She nodded.
    “The museum had hoped to display them,” Savoy said. “I believe that requirement was mentioned on the entry form.”
    “Requirement?”
    “Perhaps that’s too strong a word. Urgent preference might be more appropriate.”
    Lacey thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Until Rarities asks for those three paintings, I’ll leave them in your hands.”
    “Thank you.” Savoy smiled brilliantly. “My father will be pleased.”
    “That means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”
    “Do you get along with your father, Ms. Quinn?”
    She thought about their recent arguments, and some of the