The Art of Deception

resentment. For the moment, Stuart ignored them. “I wasn’t able to reach you in Africa, Harriet, and things have been hectic since your return. The Titian woman has been sold to Ernest Myerling.”
    As he lifted his glass, Adam’s attention focused on Kirby. Her color drained, slowly, degree by degree until her face was as white as the silk she wore.
    “I don’t recall discussing selling the Titian,” Harriet countered. Her voice was as colorless as Kirby’s skin.
    “As I said, I couldn’t reach you. As the Titian isn’t listed under your personal collection, it falls among the saleable paintings. I think you’ll be pleased with the price.” He lit a cigarette with a slim silver lighter. “Myerling did insist on having it tested. He’s more interested in investment than art, I’m afraid. I thought you’d want to be there tomorrow for the procedure.”
    Oh, God, oh, my God! Panic, very real and very strong, whirled through Kirby’s mind. In silence, Adam watched the fear grow in her eyes.
    “Tested!” Obviously insulted, Harriet seethed. “Of all the gall, doubting the authenticity of a painting from my gallery. The Titian should not have been sold without my permission, and certainly not to a peasant.”
    “Testing isn’t unheard-of, Harriet.” Seeing a hefty commission wavering, Stuart soothed, “Myerling’s a businessman, not an art expert. He wants facts.” Taking a long drag, he blew out smoke. “In any case, the paperwork’s already completed and there’s nothing to be done about it. The deal’s a fait accompli, hinging on the test results.”
    “We’ll discuss this in the morning.” Harriet’s voice lowered as she finished off her drink. “This isn’t the time or place.”
    “I—I have to freshen my drink,” Kirby said suddenly. Without another word, she spun away to work her way through the crowd. The nausea, she realized, was a direct result of panic, and the panic was a long way from over. “Papa.” She latched on to his arm and pulled him out of a discussion on Dali’s versatility. “I have to talk to you. Now.”
    Hearing the edge in her voice, he let her drag him from the room.

Chapter 7
    K irby closed the doors of Harriet’s library behind her and leaned back against them. She didn’t waste any time. “The Titian’s being tested in the morning. Stuart sold it.”
    “Sold it!” Fairchild’s eyes grew wide, his face pink. “Impossible. Harriet wouldn’t sell the Titian.”
    “She didn’t. She was off playing with lions, remember?” Dragging both hands through her hair, she tried to speak calmly. “Stuart closed the deal, he just told her.”
    “I told you he was a fool, didn’t I? Didn’t I?” Fairchild repeated as he started dancing in place. “I told Harriet, too. Would anyone listen? No, not Harriet.” He whirled around, plucked up a pencil from her desk and broke it in two. “She hires the idiot anyway and goes off to roam the jungle.”

    “There’s no use going over that again!” Kirby snapped at him. “We’ve got to deal with the results.”
    “There wouldn’t be any results if I’d been listened to. Stubborn woman falling for a pretty face. That’s all it was.” Pausing, he took a deep breath and folded his hands. “Well,” he said in a mild voice, “this is a problem.”
    “Papa, this isn’t an error in your checkbook.”
    “But it can be handled, probably with less effort. Any way out of the deal?”
    “Stuart said the paperwork had been finalized. And it’s Myerling,” she added.
    “That old pirate.” He scowled a moment and gave Harriet’s desk a quick kick. “No way out of it,” Fairchild concluded. “On to the next step. We exchange them.” He saw by Kirby’s nod that she’d already thought of it. There was a quick flash of pride before anger set in. The round, cherubic face tightened. “By God, Stuart’s going to pay for making me give up that painting.”
    “Very easily said, Papa.” Kirby walked into the room until she stood toe to toe with him. “But who was it who settled Adam in the same room with the painting? Now we’re going to have to get it out of his room, then get the copy from the gallery in without him knowing there’s been a switch. I’m sure you’ve noticed Adam’s not a fool.”
    Fairchild’s eyebrows wiggled. His lips curved. He rubbed his palms together. “A plan.”
    Knowing it was too late for regrets, Kirby flopped into a chair. “We’ll phone Cards and have him