St Kilda Consulting 04 - Blue Smoke and Murder

represent a private collector who wants to remain anonymous. My client is very interested in some paintings you have. Are you alone?”
    Zach’s dark eyebrows lifted.
    “What does that have to do with my paintings?” she asked.
    “My client heard that you hired a renegade private security organization named St. Kilda Consulting. If it’s true, my client would refuse to deal with you.”
    “Let me make sure I have this right,” Jill said. “Your client doesn’t like who is representing me, so he won’t deal with me?”
    “Did you know that St. Kilda was involved in a gun battle that cost the lives of several people and left a federally protected government witness close to death?”
    “Really?” Jill said, looking at Zach.
    He shrugged. Old news.
    “The principals in that matter were Grace Silva, a discredited former federal judge, and Joe Faroe, an ex-convict with a long history of violence.”
    Jill looked at Zach.
    His smile wasn’t the kind that comforted people. He walked toward the desk and found a notepad and pen with the hotel’s logo on them.
    “I didn’t know that,” she said slowly. “It makes St. Kilda sound, well, sort of shady.”
    “St. Kilda Consulting has been put on the watch list of every government agency in the United States,” the caller said. “It’s a mercenary corporation, a private military company, and as such is required to register with the State Department because of its many questionable overseas contracts.”
    Zach returned with a hotel note tablet that said go with it.
    She gave him a well, duh look.
    “You’re making me very uneasy,” she said into the phone. “That’s not at all what I thought St. Kilda was.”
    “Sorry to be the one bringing bad news,” the caller said smoothly. “The good news is that we can do some profitable business, but only if you get rid of St. Kilda. My client simply refuses to have any part of such an organization.”
    “Well, that’s reassuring,” she said, trying not to laugh. “How did your client learn about the paintings?”
    “The world is full of wealthy, anonymous collectors. At the high end, art is best conducted on a private basis. Many collectors are afraid that publicity will draw the attention of thieves and extortionists. As long as you’re with St. Kilda, my client thinks that you might be, at best, an extortionist. After all, that’s what St. Kilda Consulting is noted for.”
    “Extortion?”
    “In a word,” the caller agreed.
    “Frankly, I’m just a woman alone who finds herself in a very strange, sometimes dangerous world,” Jill said. “I didn’t ask for any of this, but I’ve got it just the same. And…”—she sighed—“I’ve become uneasy with St. Kilda.”
    Go, babe! Zach nodded, silently encouraging her. Base the lies on truth. So much more convincing that way.
    “Then we have a basis for the deal,” the caller said.
    “What is your client willing to pay for the paintings?” Jill asked.
    “If the paintings are all similar to the one that was trafficked around Salt Lake City—”
    “They’re better,” she cut in. “Bigger.” She looked at Zach and smiled. “Size does matter, you know.”
    He bit back laughter.
    “I could offer you a million dollars for your paintings,” the caller said.
    “A million?” She made a scornful sound. “How about ten million? Do you know what Dunstans are selling for on the market today?”
    “Not a chance,” the caller said. “Your paintings aren’t signed Dunstans, and no one who matters will authenticate them. Considering that, a million is very generous.”
    “What if the paintings could be authenticated?” she insisted.
    “That’s the ten-million-dollar question, isn’t it?” The caller’s voice roughened. “There’s no historical record of the paintings other than your unsupported word they were in your family. Even if you found, say, a thumbprint in place of a signature, there’s no way to prove that the thumbprint belonged to the artist.”
    Zach was writing busily.
    “Really? But fingerprints are accepted in—” she began.
    The man kept talking. “A lot of people could handle paintings before they’re dry. Friends, fellow artists, groupies, a hasty framer. Considering that fingerprints as a whole, like DNA evidence, have become an area of controversy in criminal cases, you’d be stupid to front those paintings as Dunstans. Unless you have the resources for a prolonged legal battle…?”
    Zach shoved the