Elizabeth Lowell - Blue Smoke and Murder

“What?” Caitlin knew her voice was too sharp, but there was nothing she could do about it, any more than she could control her suddenly frantic heartbeat.

Worthington was talking about her worst nightmare come true.

“A man and a woman,” Worthington said, “I’d guess in their early thirties. I just wondered if they’d come to Tal with their dubious goods.”

“No. He would have told me.” Wouldn’t he?

“Well, if anyone comes to Tal peddling previously unknown Dunstans, please ask him to contact me before he buys anything.”

“He always does.”

Worthington laughed. “Caitlin, you’re beautiful and the soul of discretion, but we both know how single-minded Tal can be, especially when it comes to Thomas Dunstan’s art.”

Caitlin forced a light laugh. “You know my husband so well. But seriously, he hasn’t said a word about any Dunstans except those coming up at auction in Las Vegas. We’re so excited, the only reason we aren’t in Las Vegas is the press announcement of the new museum in a few hours.”

“Just what an auctioneer likes to hear. It’s going to be an exciting time for everyone, especially once word of Tal’s generosity hits the headlines.”

An agreeable sound was all Caitlin could manage.

“I have a lot to do before the auction myself,” Worthington said. “But if Tal hears anything, I’m never too busy to talk to him. Right now, I have to speak to Lee Dunstan.”

Caitlin made polite good-byes, hung up, and stared at her clenched, bloodless hands.

OVER UTAH

SEPTEMBER 15

1:10 P.M.

Score’s fingers flew over his computer keyboard. He didn’t need Amy’s script to tell him that the Breck woman was on the move again. The locater he’d planted in her satellite phone was showing the kind of positional changes that only being in the air could bring.

Damn. Where is she getting the money to pay for all this?

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the side of the keyboard. Where she got her money wasn’t his problem.

Keeping up with her was.

His fingers drummed while he waited for someone in the home office to get Breck’s new flight plan.

When it finally came through, he cursed savagely. Then he put on his earphones and said, “We need to file a new flight plan.”

“Where to?” The pilot’s voice managed to sound curt and bored at the same time.

“Taos.”

The pilot didn’t require a computer to give her client the happy news. “We have to land in Salt Lake to refuel, as per our flight plan.”

“What about Snowbird?” Where the locater, and therefore Ms. Breck, spent some time.

“No landing strip.”

Figures. “Just get me to Taos the fastest way you can.”

With a brutal motion Score yanked off the headphones and watched the blinking light of the locater slide away from him.

It would be a distinct pleasure to get his hands on the bitch who was causing him all this trouble.

CARSON CITY, NEVADA

SEPTEMBER 15

5:00 P.M.

As Tal Crawford stood to one side of the governor of Nevada, he approved of his wife’s unerring sense of style. Standing next to him, Caitlin was somehow relaxed and attentive at the same time, her eyes on the governor, seemingly unaware of the battery of cameras and microphones arrayed around the politician. Her hair was both sleek and casual, suggesting a woman completely at ease with herself. There was a gentle smile on her perfectly made-up mouth. The smile, like everything else about her from her stylish heels to her pastel jacket and matching skirt, was tasteful and camera-ready. Neither too fashionable nor too dated, simply classy.

Best investment I ever made.

The thought almost made Tal grin, but he kept his expression bland while he listened to the public theater that was so necessary to politics.

And politics were damned necessary to wealth.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” Governor Rollins said, “it is my pleasure to announce that one of our own native sons, Mr. Talbert Crawford, will soon donate to the great state of Nevada the most valuable collection of Western landscape paintings ever made available to the public.”

The group of cultural mavens standing behind the governor clapped enthusiastically.

Tal tried to look like his new cowboy boots weren’t pinching him. But they were.

Don’t know how Caitlin puts up with those fancy shoes she wears. I’d be crippled in five steps.

“Now, I don’t know much about art,” the governor reassured the voters, “but I sure know what I like. And I really like the paintings of Thomas Dunstan, the single most important painter the West ever produced.”

There was more applause.

“This day is truly momentous in the cultural history of our state,” the governor continued.

The people behind the governor nodded and smiled eagerly, like children at Christmas. The excitement they felt was real, not camera-ready.

“With the donation of this magnificent collection, plus the Dunstans Tal plans to acquire at the upcoming Las Vegas auction, our fine state will possess fifteen of the major works of an artistic genius, clearly the most important man ever to paint our wild and beautiful state. That’s a dozen more than any public museum or private collection now owns!”

Caitlin listened to the applause and prayed that everything would go as planned in Las Vegas.

It will.

It has to.

But none of her anxiety showed in her body language. A lady in public was always calm, gracious, and modest.

“With this collection,” the governor said, “our state now has a claim on the cultural leadership of the West. The new state museum we’re building will be a magnet for culturally aware people from all over our great nation.”

Caitlin joined in the spattering of applause from the people gathered on and around the steps of the capitol.

Camera lights glared and flashed.

The governor smiled and turned to Tal. “In the name of the people of the great state of Nevada, I want to thank you for your generosity.”

Cameras and microphone shifted to Crawford.

“My pleasure, Governor,” Tal drawled. “God has seen fit to bless me with the means to repay just a small part of what I owe to our great nation. In addition to Governor Rollins, I want to thank Senator Pat Healy. He’s been real helpful in pulling this all together. We’re lucky to have him watching out for our interests in Washington.” Tal smiled like a little boy caught snitching cookies. “Got to admit, if it wasn’t for the efforts of these two great men, I’d never have been persuaded to part with my Dunstans, much less my whole collection of Western art.”

Caitlin’s smile froze in its gracious curve as she clapped and politicians smiled and camera lights flashed their blinding message of fame. She kept smiling while Tal went on to describe the unflagging public conscience of the governor and the senator, and how important Western art was becoming, the world finally recognizing the greatness that had always been in painters such as Thomas Dunstan.

There were no surprises in the speech for Caitlin. She had vetted every word, every action, every pause for reaction. Now all she had to do was pray that Tal didn’t screw it up and act like the shit-kicker he was by birth and inclination.

“When this museum is completed and open to the public, millions of people will be able to enjoy the best of the paintings of Thomas Dunstan,” Tal said. “And right here, right now, I want to challenge other Western art collectors to match my donation with works in their own collections. Competition is part of our great way of life, so come on down to the auction this Sunday in Las Vegas and see if you can go toe-to-toe with me for the only Thomas Dunstans to be offered for sale in decades. I promise you, we’re going to make a name for Nevada and set new records for a great Western painter!”

The applause was really enthusiastic. Obviously, the cultured elite of Nevada had high hopes for Carson City’s future as a mecca for Western art.

Tal grinned and stepped back, letting the governor take over again.

“Thank you, Tal,” the governor said, then turned to face the barrage of cameras. “It is our responsibility and pleasure to make sure that our cultural heritage here in the West is protected and promoted in the same way our brothers from east of the Hudson River have promoted their regional artists. This day has been long overdue, but it’s our turn, now. The great state of Nevada will be the leader of the new Western culture!”

The applause was loud and sustained.

Caitlin’s smile brightened as she stood by Tal and applauded the crowd that was applauding him.

Almost over.

Almost.

She kept smiling and clapping and praying for the auction to be over.

TAOS

SEPTEMBER 15

6:00 P.M.

A new Dodge Magnum was waiting for them at Taos Regional Airport. Very quickly Zach loaded the six wooden crates aboard. Even though the rental was about the size of a covered pickup truck, there wasn’t much room left over behind the front seats for his duffel and Jill’s backpack. He frowned.