Page 37 of Caper Crush
The doorbell rings.
Chapter nine
“Letmegetthat.”Vinnie leaves the room. Afternoon sunlight trickles in through the shades of the two large windows in the front of the living room. The fresh air, smelling of grass and flowers and breezing in through the open windows, commingles with the smell of coffee and tea.
“Are you okay?” William faces me.
“Yes. Were you able to check out all the rooms?” I whisper, sliding closer to him on the couch.
“I didn’t get to the study. Nothing in the bedroom closets. Totally empty.”
“And you checked under the beds too, right?”
“Nothing under the beds,” he says.
“You should have done the study first.”
“You can say that now,” William says. We glance at each other.What can we do now?
“The kitchen has one large enough closet,” I say.
The boxes in the living room are too small to hold the paintings.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” William asks.
“People dissing my art is nothing new,” I say. “I just didn’t expect Vinnie to accuse me of flaking out, so I wasn’t prepared.”
Edmund appears in the doorway with Vinnie.
“Edmund! What are you doing here?” I ask.
Edmund looks even skinnier next to the broad-shouldered figure of Vinnie. Edmund’s wingtip shoes click-clack as he crosses the floor and sits in a wicker armchair next to me. Crossing his legs, he smooths down his pinstriped pant.
“I’m interested in buying an Agatha Boonland illustration and the Versal. That Versal oil portrait painting is particularly exquisite. Vinnie represents them.”
“I just got the Agatha Boonland,” Vinnie says. “Luckily. I was relying on the Kimimoto to make ends meet.”
Suspicious timing.William glances at me, tilting his head.
“Are things not going well financially?” I ask.
Vinnie grimaces. “They could be better.”
Another honest answer.
“Here, Vinnie, I bought you this gift.” Edmund hands Vinnie a narrow box and says to me, smirking, “I saw the article inThe Squirrel. They do like to pick on you.”
“They do.” As our glances meet, I know he’s the one who toldThe Squirrel. He’s got that glint in his eyes when he thinks he’s fooled me. Still, it doesn’t mean he actually stole the paintings.
“Maybe you should capitalize on that publicity,” he says.
“It wasn’t exactly positive.”
“It’s fifteen minutes of fame. Use it or lose it,” Edmund says. “Let me know if you want to reach out to my connections.”
“Have you now developed connections in contemporary art?” Not that I want to be beholden to Edmund. Especially after I told my sister not to marry him.
“I am all about connections,” he says. “I’d be willing to commission a portrait of me and Annabelle. If that helps.”
