The Art of Deception

interchangeable.”
    “I’ll go along with all that, Kirby, but it doesn’t explain why—”
    “Let me finish.” She had both hands on the snifter again, resting it in her lap. “One thing Papa can’t tolerate is greed, in any form. To him greed isn’t just the worship of money, but the hoarding of art. You must know his collection’s constantly being lent out to museums and art schools. Though he has strong feelings that art belongs in the private sector, as well as public institutions, he hates the idea of the wealthy buying up great art for investment purposes.”
    “Admirable, Kirby. But he’s made a business out of selling fraudulent paintings.”
    “Not a business. He’s never benefited financially.” She set her glass aside and clasped her hands together. “Each prospective buyer of one of Papa’s emulations is first researched thoroughly.” She waited a beat. “By Harriet.”
    He nearly sat back down again. “Harriet Merrick’s in on all of this?”
    “All of this,” she said mildly, “has been their joint hobby for the last fifteen years.”
    “Hobby,” he murmured and did sit.
    “Harriet has very good connections, you see. She makes certain the buyer is very wealthy and that he or she lives in a remote location. Two years ago, Papa sold an Arabian sheik a fabulous Renoir. It was one of my favorites. Anyway—” she continued, getting up to freshen Adam’s drink, then her own “—each buyer would also be known for his or her attachment to money, and/or a complete lack of any sense of community spirit or obligation. Through Harriet, they’d learn of Papa’s ownership of a rare, officially undiscovered artwork.”
    Taking her own snifter, she returned to her position on the bed while Adam remained silent. “At the first contact, Papa is always uncooperative without being completely dismissive. Gradually he allows himself to be worn down until the deal’s made. The price, naturally, is exorbitant, otherwise the art fanciers would be insulted.” She took a small sip and enjoyed the warm flow of the brandy. “He deals only in cash, so there’s no record. Then the paintings float off to the Himalayas or Siberia or somewhere to be kept in seclusion. Papa then donates the money anonymously to charity.”
    Taking a deep breath at the end of her speech, Kirby rewarded herself with more brandy.
    “You’re telling me that he goes through all that, all the work, all the intrigue, for nothing?”
    “I certainly am not.” Kirby shook her head and leaned forward. “He gets a great deal. He gets satisfaction, Adam. What else is necessary after all?”
    He struggled to remember the code of right and wrong. “Kirby, he’s stealing!”
    Kirby tilted her head and considered. “Who caught your support and admiration, Adam? The Sheriff of Nottingham or Robin Hood?”
    “It’s not the same.” He dragged a hand through his hair as he tried to convince them both. “Damn it, Kirby, it’s not the same.”
    “There’s a newly modernized pediatric wing at the local hospital,” she began quietly. “A little town in Appalachia has a new fire engine and modern equipment. Another, in the dust bowl, has a wonderful new library.”

    “All right.” He rose again to cut her off. “In fifteen years I’m sure there’s quite a list. Maybe in some strange way it’s commendable, but it’s also illegal, Kirby. It has to stop.”
    “I know.” Her simple agreement broke his rhythm. With a half smile, Kirby moved her shoulders. “It was fun while it lasted, but I’ve known for some time it had to stop before something went wrong. Papa has a project in mind for a series of paintings, and I’ve convinced him to begin soon. It should take him about five years and give us a breathing space. But in the meantime, he’s done something I don’t know how to cope with.”
    She was about to give him more. Even before she spoke, Adam knew Kirby was going to give him all her trust. He sat in silence, despising himself, as she told him everything she knew about the Rembrandt.
    “I imagine part of it’s revenge on Stuart,” she continued, while Adam smoked in silence and she again swirled her brandy without drinking. “Somehow Stuart found out about Papa’s hobby and threatened exposure the night I broke our engagement. Papa told me not to worry, that Stuart wasn’t in a position to make waves. At the time I had no idea about the Rembrandt business.”
    She was opening up to him, no questions,