Page 63 of Fast Currents
Lucy’s eyes danced, a hint of wickedness taking over, and I steeled myself.
“Robertson, you’re offering me unrestricted access to the two people who know your every weakness?” She rubbed her hands together, looking gleeful. “I can’t wait.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with my Lucifer?” I asked.
She chuckled. “So long as you don’t make me cook, I’m happy to help host your parents for Thanksgiving.”
“You didn’t have plans?” I asked gently.
She lifted one shoulder. “Getting off the island for holidays is a pain. I didn’t want to sit in traffic to head down south. I’d already warned my family I wasn’t coming this year.” She arched one brow. “But never fear, you’ll get your shot at them in the spring. They’ve already booked the hotel room.”
I reached across the bench seat, tangling her hand in mine. “Then I’m glad we can be together.”
“I would have joined the Fenwick family festivities, but I’d much prefer being with you.” She added a delicate little shudder. “I’ve had my fill of Gran for a while.”
A stiff wind pushed the clouds across the sky over the water as Lucy and I dashed into the café, trying to beat the impending rain. I’d arranged for Agent Harris to join us for lunch, and he raised a casual hand from a booth in the back. Lucy didn’t need the hand at the small of her back to guide her, but I did.
I held her chair out for her, wrapping an arm around the back of her seat when I was settled. Agent Harris’s lip quirked. Message received.
I should be above such displays of possessiveness. Lucy smirked at me, but she also scooted her chair closer to mine.
“Agent Harris, nice to see you,” Lucy said easily.
“Likewise.” His gaze slid between us. “We missed you last night.”
I refused to feel guilty for telling Lucy I loved her. I shrugged. “We had places to be.”
“Hm. Well, anything new to report? I have to say, I don’t have much to go on. The DEA doesn’t approve of wild goose chases.”
“I think you should take a closer look at Chaz’s sales records. Especially those for A.A.’s work,” Lucy said.
“Why?” Agent Harris examined Lucy closely. “I doubt there are narcotics embedded in the paint.”
Our server arrived, and we placed our orders. Talking about narcotics and art fraud in the cheery café felt surreal. It was the kind of place where we should be discussing a sailing adventure with Rae and Zach. Or which wine pairs well with salmon. Not crime.
“But maybe they’re laundering money to cover for something else,” Lucy said.
Harris stroked his chin. “Tell me more.”
“It’s suspicious that A.A. is so prolific and so popular.”
Harris grinned. “Are you an art snob, Ms. Millen?”
“You can call me Lucy. And no. But any artist is going to have variations in popularity, or a piece that just doesn’t sell. Somehow, Chaz is turning 100% of A.A.’s shows in record time – it’s almost as if buyers have an ulterior motive.”
“That might explain why some of the locals are snapping up A.A.’s art,” I added. “Maybe it’s the gallery’s way of washing the cash for whomever they’re working with.”
Agent Harris seemed to consider our idea. “It’s one of the easier ways to launder money. But the black case is a pretty thin link between the Dawkins death and your gallery owner. I don’t know that I’m going to get a judge to give me a warrant for his records.”
Lucy’s chin jutted in a familiar show of obstinacy. “Then we’re just going to have to get you some proof.”
I closed my eyes, counting to ten. I didn’t want Lucy anywhere near danger. But she was stubborn enough to go alone if I didn’t help.
“What do you need?” I asked Agent Harris.
Chapter 26 – Lucy
Inever expected Clay to back my play with Agent Harris. But his steady presence and easy acceptance of my drive to get to the truth deepened the soft, unguarded part of me that melted with every kiss. Clay Robertson wasmine.
