Lorraine had heard enough and Nick Nathan irritated her. The trip to Santa Fe had been largely a waste of time, but at least she knew he hadn’t been responsible for the forgeries. It was interesting, too, that the family’s suspicions, like her own, seemed to centre on Sonja...
‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘Can you pack up the picture for me?’
He parcelled it in newspaper and handed it to her, saying that if she wanted any more of his work, all she had to do was call.
‘Just for my records,’ she said, ‘could you tell me when you last saw your brother?’
‘Must be a couple of years ago, just before he and Kendall broke up. Come to think of it, they were talking about getting some painting copied. I thought they meant onto a slide — it was one of that asshole Schnabel’s.’ He moved out into the corridor, heading for the stairs, and Lorraine followed.
‘Was it just Harry and Kendall, or was anyone else there?’
‘There was another guy — Arthur something, I don’t know his last name. It was after a show Kendall had, and he and I had a kind of fight — over the Schnabel. I said it wasn’t worth the hook it was hanging from and he kind of went for me. Fucking asshole.’ Nick stopped on the landing to continue his tirade against Julian Schnabel, talentless bum, in his opinion, promoted by a clique of art insiders interested in lining their own pockets by inflating the prices of certain court favourites’ work. ‘Everything’s fixed, you realize that? Art has got nothing to do with the market.’ He jabbed his finger into Lorraine’s chest. ‘I’ve trailed my work round every fucking New York gallery. I send in my slides and they lose them. Then they buy a fucking piece of canvas with a wooden plank sticking out of it. That’s not art.’
Lorraine stepped back to avoid Nathan’s finger, and decided to risk interrupting him. ‘Do you recall anything more about this Arthur?’
‘Big guy, dark,’ Nick said, setting off down the stairs.
‘Do you know if he was a painter?’ Lorraine asked, hurrying after him.
‘I don’t know. Bastards like Schnabel probably pay people like him to talk up their work. He hung around after the show, like he was waiting for me to go, and I thought, Fine, screw you, I’m just the guy’s fucking brother, so I walked out. Then I forgot my jacket so I go back, and the three of them were out back in a kind of workroom, and Kendall and Harry were standing behind him, and he was using this big lamp, looking over the canvas, right, and...’
‘What exactly did he say?’ Lorraine asked. ‘It’s very important.’
‘Oh, I can’t remember. Kendall said something about having a buyer and he said something about getting a copy made quickly. Maybe he’s your rip-off artist.’
‘Did you ever see him again?’ Lorraine asked.
‘No, I never went back to LA,’ Nick said, then gave a boyish smile, and clapped his hands together, like a salesman who had just clinched a big deal. ‘I hope you enjoy my work, and you have a real nice day. Been great meeting you, Loretta.’
Lorraine didn’t correct him. ‘Nice meeting you too, Nick,’ she said, turning to go. Had he really just remembered this vital detail from the past, or was it a ploy on the part of Nathan’s family to incriminate Sonja and her lover?
Chapter 18
Lorraine returned to the motel, her head aching. She called Feinstein and told him that she was beginning to find leads, and asked if her expenses could run to another trip, this time to visit Nathan’s mother.
‘Christ, she’s in Chicago,’ he demurred.
‘I know, but it might tie up some loose ends.’
‘Go ahead, then,’ he said, and gave her Abigail Nathan’s address and phone number.
Lorraine called Rosie to say she would not be coming home that afternoon, but would try for the following morning. Rosie agreed to keep Tiger for another night, and Lorraine heard Rooney in the background asking to speak to her.
‘Lorraine,’ he said, ‘I’ve stopped by the office a couple of times and there’s someone calling you all the time.’
‘Well,’ Lorraine said, ‘if they’re looking for my professional services you can tell them I’m about to retire.’
‘It’s not that,’ Rooney said. ‘Whoever it is hangs up the whole time — no message. Rosie and I thought it might be Jake, but you’ve spoken to him, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, I have. He’s too busy for that kind of thing, anyway,’ Lorraine said.
‘That’s what I thought. There’s so many calls it’s like someone’s doing it deliberately, to make you realize someone’s trying to get to you — it’s like they think you must know who it is. I was just wondering if you’ve trodden on someone’s tail.’
‘Well, that’s a possibility,’ Lorraine said thoughtfully. ‘How long has this been going on?’
‘A few days,’ Bill said.
That meant it could hardly be anything to do with Nick Nathan, which left only Sonja and Arthur, Lorraine thought, but said nothing to Rooney.
‘Is there anything I can do from this end?’ he asked.
‘There is, Bill. In my office there are two plastic bags. They’ve got a lot of catalogues from art galleries, with notes from Decker. Can you go through them and find out about a painting by Julian Schnabel? It would have been in the Nathan gallery about four years ago. It’s not on my list, but see if there’s any record of it, and I’ll call you from Chicago.’
‘Okay, will do... and you look after yourself.’
She caught Burton at the station, and once she heard his voice she wondered what the hell she was doing planning yet another detour.
‘So,’ he said, ‘I get three guesses, right? You’re coming home late, you’re coming home late, or you’re coming home late?’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I did say it might be tomorrow.’
‘I know you did,’ he said, easily. ‘I bought you an extra-specially non-perishable present.’
‘I bought you one too,’ she said. A timeless work of art by Nick Nathan.’
‘Mine’s pretty timeless too,’ he said, and something in this voice told her immediately what it was.
‘Oh,’ she said softly. ‘Do I get three guesses?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Just get your ass back here fast.’
‘Will do,’ Lorraine said. ‘I swear I’ll see you tomorrow even if I pass all of Feinstein’s paintings at a garage sale on the way to the airport.’
‘If that happens,’ he said, with a deep laugh, ‘you can miss the plane. Otherwise, see you then.’
She was about to hang up when she remembered what Rooney had said about the messages left at the office. ‘Just one thing,’ she said. ‘You haven’t been calling my answerphone at the office for any reason? Rooney says there’ve been some weird calls.’
He laughed again. ‘I’m flattered I’m the first person you thought of but, much as I miss you, the answer is no.’
After they hung up, she had another fifteen minutes of considerably less cordial conversation with an irate agent at the airline before she succeeded in rearranging her flight, but she was en route to Chicago by late afternoon.
Sonja and Arthur waited for their luggage in the terminal at Tegel, the airport at Berlin, having already enlisted the services of a porter with a trolley. They had arranged for a car to pick them up outside. Sonja got in and leaned back, closing her eyes. ‘God, I feel nervous, now that we’re actually here. I kept thinking someone was going to challenge us when we went through customs.’
‘Why would they? The paintings are at the gallery now.’ He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘We’re here, and the paintings are here, it’s nearly over. Just stay calm. We’ve already got over the most difficult part.’