Elizabeth Lowell - Blue Smoke and Murder

“Been there, done that?” he asked.

“Every time I picked up a brush.”

Smiling, Zach examined the top and side edges of each canvas. There was wear at the corners and a slight loosening of the canvas itself on the stretchers. Nothing critical, just the natural aging process that began the instant an artist finished a canvas.

“Turn each canvas so that I can examine the bottom edge of the rolled canvas,” Zach said.

The two young men duly flipped each canvas.

Zach moved the light slowly along the bottom edge. Once. Twice. Three times. He looked at Jill.

No thumbprint.

LAS VEGAS

SEPTEMBER 16

5:19 P.M.

Very lightly Zack ran his fingertips along the bottom edge of the painting. Jill took a deep breath, let it out, then took another breath, sniffing the bottom corner of the second painting.

“Black light,” she said.

Zach gave her the light. She held it at an oblique angle to the edge of the stretcher.

“See it?” she asked.

“Looks like it was added after the paint dried,” Zach said.

“Well after,” she said. “It still smells faintly of oil. The modern, quick-dry kind, complete with modern, quick-dry sealant.”

Once discovered, the over-painting leaped out like a scab on otherwise smooth skin.

Jase crowded in on the painting and stared. “You’re right, the repair seems new. But it has no significance.”

“Really?” Jill said skeptically.

“Probably the original frame was put on before the canvas had completely dried,” Jase explained. “When the frame was recently removed for the canvas to be re-stretched, some paint came with it. Thus the repair. It certainly doesn’t matter to the value of the painting as a whole. I doubt if you would even notice it without the black light. Once the canvas is back in its frame, the over-painting will be invisible.”

“Looks like the canvas might have been damaged,” Zach said. “That would affect the price.”

“If it was true, yes. The documents from Lee Dunstan didn’t indicate any such damage,” Jase said.

Zach shrugged. “Then you won’t mind if I record this for my client?”

“Record?”

Zach produced the little digital camera.

“No images,” Jase said immediately. “All reprographic rights remain with the artist’s estate.”

“I’m not going for the front of the painting,” Zach said. “Just the part that will be hidden by the frame at the auction.”

Jase hesitated, glanced at his watch, and said, “Please be quick about it. I have another appointment in two minutes.”

Zach bent over the canvas and recorded the over-painting under various lighting conditions.

The pager on Jase’s belt went off. He looked at the code and frowned.

“We can find our way out,” Jill said. “Don’t be late on account of us.”

“If you need to shift a canvas, one of my helpers will do it,” Jase said. “Insurance, you understand. We can’t have anyone touching the art.”

“Of course,” Jill said. “Thank you for your time. I assure you that our client will be very interested in these paintings. Nothing like a new, extremely wealthy collector to spice up an auction, is there?”

It was every auctioneer’s wet dream, and Jase knew it. “All qualified bidders are welcome.” He smiled. “If you’ll excuse me…”

While Jase hurried out of the room, Zach went to the other canvas. The black light flashed over his face. His grin looked demonic in the purple glow.

When Jill would have said something, he bent and kissed her swiftly, then breathed in her ear, “Not one word about thumbprints.”

Like the other canvas, this one must have been put into the frame before it fully dried, because there was more over-painting near the bottom corner.

Jill leaned in, breathed deep, and said, “Same as the other.”

“Yeah. What do you want to bet it has the same cause?” Zach asked mildly.

“I wouldn’t bet against it,” she said, flinching when the camera’s built-in flash went off.

“Not even in Vegas?”

“Especially not in Vegas.”

“Smart woman.”

“Keep it in mind,” she said.

“Always,” he promised.

As soon as Zach was finished, they thanked the helpers and headed out of the room. When Jill was certain no one could overhear, she turned to Zach.

“How did someone know to-”

He stopped her words with a hard kiss.

“But when-” she began as soon as he lifted his head.

“Not until we’re in the shower. Naked.”

LAS VEGAS

SEPTEMBER 16

6:05 P.M.

Lee Dunstan staggered slightly, then righted himself by leaning against the plush sofa.

Can’t hold liquor the way I used to.

But he wanted another drink anyway.

When he went to get it, he found Betty pouring the rest of the bottle into the bathroom sink.

With an angry cry, Lee lunged toward her, knocking her and the empty bottle against the glassed-in shower enclosure. The shower’s heavy glass banged, vibrated, and held. The bottle shattered.

Betty slid down to the floor and put her face in her hands.

Lee turned on his heel and went to the room phone to order another bottle. Before he could pick up the receiver, the phone rang.

“What?” he snarled into the receiver.

“Ah, Mr. Dunstan?”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Jase Wheeler, with the auction. I just wanted to share some very good news with you.”

Lee took a deep breath. The room spun. He took another breath. Things settled down.

Mostly.

“I’m listening,” Lee said.

“The advisers for an unknown, extremely wealthy mystery bidder showed up to look at your Dunstans. They inspected them very thoroughly. They floated the idea that some damage had been done to the canvas because there were spots of over-painting on the bottom edges of the stretched canvas, but I-”

“Edges? Edges! Those paintings are in frames!” Lee shouted.

“Of course. We took them out. It’s quite common for potential buyers to inspect-”

“Tal Crawford is the only buyer that matters,” Lee cut in, “and he’s looked at my paintings all he needs to. What is this bullshit?”

Behind Lee, shards of glass clinked into the trash as Betty began cleaning up after him.

“Obviously I’ve caught you at a bad time,” Jase said smoothly. “I apologize. I just thought you would be pleased to know that, from all the buzz that’s going on, it appears that your paintings could be worth every bit of their high-end estimate. If you have any questions or would like to know any more, please feel free to call me at your convenience.”

Lee looked at the dead phone and slammed it back into the cradle so hard it hurt his hand.

Cursing steadily, he punched in Tal Crawford’s cell number. When it was picked up he said harshly, “Tal, old buddy, we got ourselves a problem.”

LAS VEGAS

SEPTEMBER 16

7:30 P.M.

Like Zach, Jill was freshly washed, wearing new clothes from the skin out, and feeling like a well-scrubbed vegetable. Unless the devices were smaller than anything St. Kilda had heard of, they weren’t carrying bugs.

Anywhere.

They had left everything in their suite, where one of the hotel’s security officers was going over the place for bugs. The new, certified bug-free clothes and electronic sweep were compliments of Shane Tannahill, who really hated devices that weren’t part of his own casino security network.

“Hungry?” Zach asked, massaging the nape of Jill’s neck absently as he sat next to her in a plush booth and looked around the luxurious restaurant.

The Golden Fleece had one five-star and three four-star restaurants on the premises. Foodie heaven. And tonight’s meal was on St. Kilda.

Five stars all the way.

Jill gave him a sidelong look. “I’m hungry. Are you on the menu?”

He smiled. “You are. Dessert.”

She smiled and tried not to think about how much fun their shower had been. Zach in a playful mood was mind blowing.

A beautifully groomed young woman stopped by their table. “Hello, I’m Lia Maitland. Mr. Tannahill asked me to give you a message. May I join you for a moment?”

Jill waved her hand at the opposite side of the booth, which was empty, as she and Zach were sitting thigh to thigh.

“Thank you.” Lia slid into the booth and continued speaking in her low, discreet voice. “Your suite was clean. Your apparel was clean. So was your duffel and backpack. As you suspected, the satellite phone in the belly bag has a locater and an eavesdropping bug.”

Jill blinked. As who suspected? She looked at Zach.

He was watching Lia.

“The bugs are probably integrated into the satellite phone’s battery,” she continued, “but since we were told only to identify, not to neutralize, any bugs, I left the phone intact. The locater is broadcasting on a frequency anyone could pick up. The bug is voice-activated. We attempted to trace it. It’s shielded. Given enough time, we could break the security. If we can’t do it, Shane Tannahill can.”