Page 35 of Caper Crush
“This is the same drive up to my dad’s house,” I say. “He moved here after the divorce.”
“Do you want to stop by and visit him?”
“He’s not there. He’s away now, working at an art school in Thailand. As he says, one of the benefits of not having a career is the ability to pick up and live wherever you want.”
“I remember talking to him about his trip to Tokyo at one of Uncle Takashi’s parties. Was he coming back for your show?”
“No. He said he didn’t need to attend it to know my art is good. I love discussing art with my dad, and he gives constructive feedback. It’s great to relax and have no expectations. As opposed to my mom and her expectations that I can’t meet because she doesn’t want me to be an artist. But it would be nice to have a happy medium between the two of them.” I was stuck between no expectations and my mom’s expectations that I couldn’t meet.
“I had a similar issue with my dad. He didn’t want me to start my own accounting business. He wanted me to keep working for one of the big accounting firms. I definitely found it hard to disappoint my dad—in that moment. But now that I’ve shown that I can be successful, he’s fine with it. You have to do what makes you happy. It’s your life.”
I look at William, surprised that he gets what I’m going through.
“Yes. She hasn’t criticized my choice to be an artist since my paintings were picked for the Vertex Art Exhibit. But now …”
“We’ll find them. We’re an unbeatable team.” William smiles at me, and I grin back at him.
A short while later, we pull up in the driveway next to Vinnie’s compact house. Off to the side is a grassy area with a wooden swing for two, all framed by tall oak trees. A stone pathway leads from the driveway up to the front entrance.
Vinnie opens his front door and strides out on his pathway, his blousy shirt billowing in the breeze.
He waves us in with a graceful bow, as if greeting royalty. “Miranda and William, emissaries from your uncles.”
He opens his arms wide and steps forward to hug me.
Ugh. I really don’t want to hug the guy.
William brushes past me and envelops him in a huge bear hug, patting him on the back.
Vinnie retreats out of William’s embrace, smoothing his brown hair, now tinged with gray, from his forehead. He clears his throat. “William. How delightful, if the circumstances were not so disastrous.”
I slip by to enter the house. Glancing around, there is no mistaking the nautical theme—crisp blues, anchors, jute rugs, wicker furniture, and several cardboard boxes interrupting what seems like a comfortable room. William follows me inside. I hang up our coats.
“You must forgive the boxes. I’m renting this out, so I’m packing up my personal stuff. So you’ve come all this way to see if I stole the paintings?”
“Yes,” William says as I’m about to deny it. “Did you?”
What happened to let’s not take the direct approach?
“No. I’d make much more money if I got the commission,” he says. “I can’t sell it on the black market.” He gestures us to the navy couch in the living room, then lounges on the armchair next to the couch, his long legs spread out. I sit at the farthest end of the couch, and William sits next to me, closer to Vinnie.
“Do you know anything about the black market for art?” William asks.
“Not enough to help you.” Vinnie puts both hands behind his head, his gaze directly meeting William’s. “I’ve met some shady types in my time, but no connections I’ve nurtured. I’ve got my reputation to uphold.”
“Did you tell anyone about the Kimimoto?” I ask. “Who was interested in buying it from you?”
“I’d rather not reveal that to you. I want that commission if the police find it.”
“Fair enough.” I presume he had to tell the police that information. That person also knows my uncle possessed that painting. “We brought some cookies.” I pull out the box of Levain Bakery cookies I picked up earlier this morning.
“You treat your suspects well. Here, let me get some refreshments,” Vinnie says. “Tea, coffee, iced tea?”
“Tea would be great.” Levain Bakery cookies are my go-to gift to bring over when visiting, plus their pure decadence may loosen tongues. “We were hoping you’d be of some help. Did you see anything suspicious during the party?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “And what would you like to drink, William?”
“Coffee,” he says. “No sugar.”
