The Art of Deception

painting.”
    Somehow, some way, she’d deal with this. Kirby started with the basics. “Melly, how could you hurt me? We’ve been friends all our lives.”
    “Friends?” The word sounded like an obscenity. “I’ve hated you for as long as I can remember.”
    “No—”
    “Hated,” Melanie repeated, coldly this time and with the ring of truth. “It was always you people flocked around, always you men preferred. My own mother preferred you.”
    “That’s not true.” Did it go so deep? Kirby thought with a flood of guilt. Should she have seen it before? “Melly—” But as she started forward, Melanie gestured with the gun.
    “’Melanie, don’t be so stiff and formal…. Melanie, where’s your sense of humor?”’ Her eyes narrowed into slits. “She never came right out and said I should be more like you, but that’s what she wanted.”
    “Harriet loves you—”
    “Love?” Melanie cut Kirby off with a laugh. “I don’t give a damn for love. It won’t buy what I need. You may have taken my mother, but that was a minor offense. The men you snatched from under my nose time and time again is a bigger one.”

    “I never took a man from you. I’ve never shown an interest in anyone you were serious about.”
    “There have been dozens,” Melanie corrected. Her voice was as brittle as glass. “You’d smile and say something stupid and I’d be forgotten. You never had my looks, but you’d use that so-called charm and lure them away, or you’d freeze up and do the same thing.”
    “I might’ve been friendly to someone you cared for,” Kirby said quickly. “If I froze it was to discourage them. Good God, Melly, I’d never have done anything to hurt you. I love you.”
    “I’ve no use for your love any longer. It served its purpose well enough.” She smiled slowly as tears swam in Kirby’s eyes. “My only regret is that you didn’t fall for Stuart. I wanted to see you fawn over him, knowing he preferred me—married you only because I wanted it. When you came to see him that night, I nearly came out of the bedroom just for the pleasure of seeing your face. But…” She shrugged. “We had long-range plans.”
    “You used me,” Kirby said quietly when she could no longer deny it. “You had Stuart use me.”
    “Of course. Still, it wasn’t wise of me to come back from New York for the weekend to be with him.”
    “Why, Melanie? Why have you pretended all these years?”
    “You were useful. Even as a child I knew that. Later, in Paris, you opened doors for me, then again in New York. It was even due to you that I spent a year of luxury with Carlyse. You wouldn’t sleep with him and you wouldn’t marry him. I did both.”
    “And that’s all?” Kirby murmured. “That’s all?”
    “That’s all. You’re not useful any longer, Kirby. In fact, you’re an inconvenience. I’d planned your death as a warning to Uncle Philip, now it’s just a necessity.”
    She wanted to turn away, but she needed to face it. “How could I have known you all my life and not seen it? How could you have hated me and not shown it?”
    “You let emotions rule your life, I don’t. Pick up the painting, Kirby.” With the gun, she gestured. “And be careful with it. Stuart and I have been offered a healthy sum for it. If you call out,” she added, “I’ll shoot you now and be in the passage with the painting before anyone comes down.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “We’re going into the passage. You’re going to have a nasty spill, Kirby, and break your neck. I’m going to take the painting home and wait for the call to tell me of your accident.”
    She’d stall. If only she’d woken Adam… No, if she’d woken him, he, too, would have a gun pointed at him. “Everyone knows how I feel about the passages.”
    “It’ll be a mystery. When they find the empty space on the wall, they’ll know the Rembrandt was responsible. Stuart should be the first target, but he’s out of town and has been for three days. I’ll be devastated by the death of my oldest and dearest friend. It’ll take months in Europe to recover from the grief.”
    “You’ve thought this out carefully.” Kirby rested against the table. “But are you capable of murder, Melly?” Slowly she closed her fingers around the bottle, working off the top with her thumb. “Face-to-face murder, not remote-control like this morning.”
    “Oh, yes.” Melanie smiled beautifully. “I prefer it. I feel better with