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By Root 4723 0

National Bank, he had the shiny corner office on the second floor, all windows, a panoramic view of both the ocean and the town. Simon had wondered if Frasier would see them. His administrative assistant, Ms. Loralee Carmichael, at least twenty-one years old, and so beautiful it made your teeth ache to look at her, left them to kick up their heels for only twelve minutes, acceptable, Simon decided, since they’d caught the old man off guard and he’d probably want to get himself and his stories together. But Simon was worried about Lily. He’d have given anything to put her on a plane back to Washington, D.C., where she’d be safe. She looked nearly flattened, her face pale and set. If there’d been a bed nearby, he’d have tied her down in it. She moved slowly, but she had that lockjaw determined look, and so he kept his mouth shut.

Elcott Frasier welcomed them into his office, patted Lily’s shoulder, his hand a bit on the heavy side, and said, “Lily, dear. May I say that you don’t look well.”

“Mr. Frasier.” She immediately moved away from him. “Since you’ve already said it, I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do about it.” She gave him a smile as cold as his own. “This is Mr. Russo. He’s a dealer of art. He’s the one who verified that four of my Sarah Elliott paintings are forgeries.”

Elcott Frasier nodded to Simon and motioned to them to be seated. “Well, this comes as quite a surprise. You say you’re an art dealer, Mr. Russo. I don’t know many art dealers who can spot forgeries. Are you quite sure about this?”

“I’m not exactly an art dealer, Mr. Frasier, as in running a gallery. I’m more a dealer/broker. I bring buyers and sellers together. Occasionally I track down forgeries and return them to their rightful owners. Since I own a Sarah Elliott and know her work intimately, I was able to spot the fakes among the eight paintings that Lily owns, particularly since I knew which four had been forged.”

Simon paused a moment, wondering how much to tell Frasier and if it would frighten the man. He’d known, of course, about the forgeries, didn’t even try to act shocked. Why not push it all the way, since he had a pretty good idea of how it had gone down? It would have to make him act. He hadn’t told Lily this and hoped she wouldn’t act surprised. He smiled toward her, then added, “I originally thought that you initiated the whole deal. But then I got to thinking that you’re really a very small man, with no contacts at all. There’s a collector, a Swede named Olaf Jorgenson, who isn’t a small man. He’s very powerful, actually. When he wants something, he goes after it, no obstacle too great. I believe that it was Jorgenson who instigated the whole thing. It went this way: Olaf wanted the Sarah Elliott paintings when they were in the Chicago Institute, but he couldn’t pull it off and had to wait. He knew exactly when Lily Savich left Chicago to move to Hemlock Bay, California. He put out feelers and found you very quickly, and your son, Tennyson, who was the right age. Then you all cut a deal. Actually, I heard Olaf had only three of the paintings. I don’t know where the fourth one is as of yet. Hopefully, he has it as well. It makes everything cleaner, easier.” Simon snapped his fingers right in Frasier’s face. “We’ll get them back fast as that. So, Mr. Frasier, did I get it all right?”

Elcott Frasier didn’t bat an eye. He looked faintly bored. Lily, though, who knew him well, saw the slight tic in his left eye, there only when he was stressed out or angry. He could be either or both at this moment in time. She was surprised initially at what Simon had said but realized that it had probably happened just as Simon had said. She said, “Jorgenson is indeed powerful, Elcott. He isn’t a small man at all, not like you.”

Simon thought their father-in-law would belt her. He was ready for it, but Frasier managed to hold himself in. He said, dismissively and as smoothly as a politician accepting a bribe for a pardon, “That’s quite a scenario, Mr. Russo. I’m sorry to hear four of the paintings were forged. No matter what you say, it