Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [204]
Lily said, “Would you have known they were fakes if you hadn’t heard about them being sold to a collector?”
“Maybe not, but after the second or third viewing, I probably would have realized something was off. They really are very well done. When I find out who forged them, I’ll pay a visit to the artist.”
“Don’t forget, Simon, we need proof,” Savich said, “to nail Tennyson. And his family, and Mr. Monk at the Eureka museum.”
Sherlock said, “No wonder that guy tried to murder you on the bus, Lily. They knew they had to move quickly and they did. It’s just that you’re no wuss and you creamed the guy. I wanna lock them all up, Dillon. Maybe stomp on them first.”
Simon, who had been studying The Maiden Voyage, looked up. “What do you mean she creamed the guy? Someone attacked you? But you were only days out of surgery.”
“Sorry, I forgot to mention that,” Savich said.
Lily said, “There was no reason to tell him. But yes, I’d been five or six days out of surgery. I was okay, thanks to a psychiatrist who—well, never mind about that. But I was feeling fine. A young guy got on an empty bus, sat beside me, and pulled out this really scary switchblade. He was lucky to get away.” And Lily gave him a big smile, the first one he’d gotten from her. He smiled back.
“Very good. Your brother taught you?”
“Yes, after Jack—No, never mind that.”
“You have a lot of never minds, Ms. Savich.”
“You may have to get used to it.” But she saw him file Jack’s name away in that brain of his.
Simon said, “As for the fourth painting, Effigy, I thought it was fine at first, but then I realized that the same forger who did the other three did that one as well. No leads yet on Effigy, but we’ll track it down. It probably went to the same collector.”
Mr. Beezler, shaken, wiped a beautiful linen handkerchief over his brow and said, “This would be a catastrophe to a museum, Mr. Savich, like a stick of dynamite stuck in the tailpipe of my Mercedes. You, Mr. Russo, you are, I gather, in a position to perhaps get the original paintings back?”
“Yes,” said Simon, “I am. Keep the black velvet warm, Mr. Beezler.”
Savich said, “I’ll speak to the guys in the art fraud section, see what recommendations they have. The FBI doesn’t do full-blown stolen art investigations at this time, so our best bet is Simon finding out who acquired the paintings.”
Simon said, “First thing, I’ll do some digging around, hit up my informants to get verification on who our collector is, find the artist, and squeeze him. The instant our collector hears I’m digging—and he’d hear about it real quick—he’ll react, either go to ground, hide the paintings, or maybe something else, but it won’t matter.”
“What do you mean ‘something else’?” Lily asked.
Savich gave him a frown, and Simon said quickly, shrugging, “Nothing, really. But since I plan to stir things up, I’ll be really careful who’s at my back. Oh yeah, Savich, I’m relieved you didn’t use the shippers that Mr. Monk wanted you to use.”
Savich said, “No, I used Bryerson. I know them and trust them. There’s no way Mr. Monk or Tennyson or any of the rest of them could know, at least for a while, where the paintings ended up. However, I will call Teddy Bryerson and have him let me know if he gets any calls about the paintings. Simon, do you think anyone will realize these four paintings are fakes if they’re out in the open for all to see?”
“Sooner or later someone would notice and ask questions.”
Lily said to Mr. Beezler, “I can’t very well let a museum hang the four fakes. What do you think about hanging all of them here for a while, Mr. Beezler, and we can see what happens?”
“Yes, I will hang them,” said Raleigh, “with great pleasure.”
Lily said to Simon, “Do you really think you can get the paintings back?”
Simon Russo rubbed his hands together. His eyes were fierce, and he looked as eager as a boy with his