Page 105 of Share with Me

“Is there something else he can do for us?”

“I’ll look into it.”

“If he has to do paperwork or something for a while, so be it. Keep him on the payroll. If Dad or Dill has a problem with it, talk to me. I don’t want to let Art go. He took two bullets for Ivan. He can work for us, whatever he can do until he gets better and move on or stay. You know what to do.”

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate that, Miss Brinley.”

Brinley spotted a small alcove where there was a vending machine. She stopped there and bought a bottled water. “Anything for you?”

“No, thanks.”

Brinley sighed. “I can’t believe this happened. I shouldn’t have bought the Schoenberg.”

“Pray, Miss Brinley.”

“I’m doing that.” For the most part Brinley followed Yun McMillan. That lady knew how to pray.

“Sorry I woke you up at three.”

“I’m glad you did, Malik. You knew I would’ve wanted to know right away.”

It had been no fun finding out that Ivan and Art had been attacked in an apparently staged traffic accident on their route back to their River Street hotel. Not only had they been beaten up pretty badly, Art had gunshot wounds in his stomach.

And Ivan.

Lord, I don’t know how to pray for Ivan.

Broken wrist, cracked ribs, stitches up and down. Well, he’d walk out of here this afternoon. It was Art who would need more extensive surgery to repair his body.

All that for a 1721 Schoenberg Stradivarius. The violin wasn’t worth more than four million dollars, but Brinley wanted Ivan to have it. She had told her telephone proxy to max out at six million. He came in close at five-point-four million. It was within budget, but as far as she was concerned, the Strad was probably worth no more than three million on the black market.

Now she had two Strads she owned not in her possession.

“Is Helen still in Vienna?” Brinley asked. Helen Hu hadn’t sent anymore news for over a week. More than the Schoenberg, Brinley wanted the Damaris back in the Brooks family vault.

Now there was more work cut out for Hu Private Investigations, Inc.

“Budapest,” Malik responded. “The informer said the thief moved the Damaris.”

“I’m not paying for her European vacation.”

“Yes, but she’s sending someone here this afternoon to talk to the SCMPD. Try to see if there’re any leads. Reps from the FBI Art Crime Team are also coming to town.”

“It’s all my fault.”Lord Jesus, help me fix this problem.

“Can’t go back, Miss Brinley. They say there’s a reason God put eyes in front of our heads. Front. Forward. Onward.”

“Still.” Brinley glanced at the time on her iPhone. “Will they let me see Art even if he’s not awake?”

“You want to see him?”

“I want many things, Malik. I want everything back to what it was. I want Ivan’s wrist to be normal and not broken. I don’t want anybody hurt—or killed—over a cheap Strad.”

“Five million is not cheap to many people.”

“But compared to a human life? Two human lives?”

“I get it.”

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