The Art of Deception

the entire painting. “Papa put a red circle on the back of the copy’s frame so they could be told apart. I’ll take the package now,” she told him briskly. “You can get the painting down.” She knelt and began to unwrap the painting they’d brought with them. “I’m glad you happened along,” she decided. “Your height’s going to be an advantage when it comes to taking down and putting up again.”
    Adam paused with the forgery in his hands. Throttling her would be too noisy at the moment, he decided. But later… “Let’s have it then.”
    In silence they exchanged paintings. Adam replaced his on the wall, while Kirby wrapped the other. After she’d tied the string, she played the light on the wall again. “It’s a bit crooked,” she decided. “A little to the left.”
    “Look, I—” Adam broke off at the sound of a faint, tuneless whistle.
    “He’s early!” Kirby whispered as she gripped the painting. “Who expects efficiency from hired help these days?”
    In a quick move, Adam had the woman, the painting and himself pressed against the wall by the archway. Finding herself neatly sandwiched, and partially smothered, Kirby held back a desperate urge to giggle. Certain it would annoy Adam, she held her breath and swallowed.
    The whistle grew louder.
    In her mind’s eye, Kirby pictured the watchman strolling down the corridor, pausing to shine his light here and there as he walked. She hoped, for the watchman’s peace of mind and Adam’s disposition, the search was cursory.
    Adam felt her trembling and held her tighter. Somehow he’d manage to protect her. He forgot that she’d gotten him into the mess in the first place. Now his only thought was to get her out of it.
    A beam of light streamed past the doorway, with the whistle close behind. Kirby shook like a leaf. The light bounced into the room, sweeping over the walls in a curving arch. Adam tensed, knowing discovery was inches away. The light halted, rested a moment, then streaked away over its original route. And there was darkness.
    They didn’t move, though Kirby wanted to badly, with the frame digging into her back. They waited, still and silent, until the whistling receded.
    Because her light trembling had become shudder after shudder, Adam drew her away to whisper reassurance. “It’s all right. He’s gone.”
    “You were wonderful.” She covered her mouth to muffle the laughter. “Ever thought about making breaking and entering a hobby?”

    He slid the painting under one arm, then took a firm grip on hers. When the time was right, he’d pay her back for this one. “Let’s go.”
    “Okay, since it’s probably a bad time to show you around. Pity,” she decided. “There are some excellent engravings in the next room, and a really marvelous still life Papa painted.”
    “Under his own name?”
    “Really, Adam.” They paused at the hallway to make certain it was clear. “That’s tacky.”
    They didn’t speak again until they were hidden by the trees. Then Adam turned to her. “I’ll take the painting and follow you back. If you go over fifty, I’ll murder you.”
    She stopped when they reached the cars, then threw him off balance with suddenly serious eyes. “I appreciate everything, Adam. I hope you don’t think too badly of us. It matters.”
    He ran a finger down her cheek. “I’ve yet to decide what I think of you.”
    Her lips curved up at the corners. “That’s all right then. Take your time.”
    “Get in and drive,” he ordered before he could forget what had to be resolved. She had a way of making a man forget a lot of things. Too many things.
    The trip back took nearly twice the time, as Kirby stayed well below the speed limit. Again she left the Porsche out front, knowing Cards would handle the details. Once inside, she went straight to the parlor.
    “Well,” she mused as she looked at her father. “He seems comfortable enough, but I think I’ll just stretch him out.”
    Adam leaned against the doorjamb and waited as she settled her father for the night. After loosening his tie and pulling off his shoes, she tossed her cape over him and kissed his balding head. “Papa,” she murmured. “You’ve been outmaneuvered.”
    “We’ll talk upstairs, Kirby. Now.”
    Straightening, Kirby gave Adam a long, mild look. “Since you ask so nicely.” She plucked a decanter of brandy and two glasses from the bar. “We may as well be sociable during the inquisition.” She swept by him