I put the script in our storage room and told her we’d get back to her. I followed her outside, watched her leave, and then went over to Picariello, who was standing beside the old-fashioned two-door azure skimmer. “Okay,” I said. “What have you got?”
The guy was wearing a grin a mile wide. “Don’t you recognize it?” he asked.
He gazed admiringly at the vehicle. He was still in his early years, with curly red hair, blue eyes, and lips hopefully parted while he waited for me to say something. The skimmer had been around awhile. And it was a style that no one had used for a long time. “No,” I said. “Why should I? Did it belong to somebody of significance?”
His disappointment did nothing to dim the glow of his features. “Matt Olander,” he said. “It was his when he was young. Before he got caught up in the war.”
Olander had been a close associate of Christopher Sim. I caught my breath and recalled seeing something about the sale a few weeks earlier. It hadn’t made much of an impact at the time because we weren’t involved and Gabe had just gotten home. I’d have preferred that Alex do the confirmation, but I didn’t want to take a chance on losing the opportunity. I took Picariello inside, sat him down with some coffee in the conference room, and got some details on the skimmer from Jacob. Then, while he waited, I went out and checked the numbers. Everything fit. As well as his ID. The vehicle had belonged to Olander, and Picariello was the current owner.
There were a few remaining details that had to be confirmed. But it looked good. Picariello had gotten a decent price. The skimmer should give him a substantial pickup and would provide us with a good commission and a ton of PR.
I told Picariello that Alex would get to him later that day, moved the skimmer into our shelter, and gave him a moderate advance in exchange for a document awarding exclusive sales rights to Rainbow for sixty days. Then I took him home. When I got back, Alex had not yet returned.
I went inside and started work on some appraisals. A short time later Jacob informed me Alex had arrived. I said okay and stayed with the appraisals until eventually I noticed he hadn’t come in. I looked out a window and saw him standing beside Olander’s vehicle in a near state of shock. I don’t recall ever seeing him look so excited about one of our auction pieces. He asked where it had come from. When I told him, he wanted to know whether I’d checked Picariello’s ID.
“Yes, Alex. He was who he said. And he the owner.”
“You had him sign over the sales rights?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give him any money?”
I told him how much.
“Excellent.” He opened the driver’s door, took a deep breath, and touched the front seat, where the young Olander would have sat. He needed a few more minutes, and then told me it looked good.
“You’re drooling, Alex.”
“I guess I am. Obviously the thing still works?”
“Yes. You planning on buying it?”
He smiled but managed to look depressed. “I’d love to. Think we have the money anywhere?”
“Not that I’m aware of. Not for this.”
He pressed the hood with his fingertips. “Touching history.” He went inside, leaving me standing beside the vehicle. It was a small two-seater, with soft coloring, blue as the late-afternoon sky. Exactly the kind of skimmer I’d have imagined for one of Sim’s friends. It exemplified the reason I’ve so enjoyed working for Gabe and Alex. There aren’t many jobs with that kind of ecstatic moment.
Later, Alex congratulated me and told me I could expect a substantial bonus.
Good by me, but I’d already gotten one.
XIV.
.
An hour later Alex was on his way to Molly’s Top of the World to take Veronica to dinner.
I went outside and took pictures of myself standing beside Olander’s skimmer. I thought about moving it back under the trees, but if it broke down or something else went wrong I’d have been in serious trouble. So I left it where it was. I’ve kept the photos. Gabe wasn’t in at the time, so when Chad stopped by a bit later—he had some business with the Andiquar Central Library—he became the first visitor I showed it to. One of the pictures still hangs on the wall while I’m writing this. It shows me in the driver’s seat, with the door open. And there’s one with Chad and me standing in front of the vehicle, which is not on the wall. I was tempted to get a video of myself sitting in it cruising around the property, but I just didn’t want to take a chance on a breakdown. The rule at Rainbow is that I take control of the company’s artifacts, but I don’t mess around with them.
Chad didn’t stay long. He had something going on in Salazar. Shortly after he left, we had a call from Karen Randall. she said.
She blinked on in my office, seated in what appeared to be a rocker. She was outside, on a porch, wearing casual brown slacks, a red shirt with a white Andiquar police monogram, and a wide-brimmed hat.
“Alex is not here at the moment,” I said. “He’s currently working on a project regarding Octavia. I understand you were a close friend of Charlotte Hill’s.”
“I’m sorry you lost her. She must have been a remarkable woman.”
Karen had long blond hair, and obviously kept in shape. she said,
“To be honest, Alex isn’t hopeful about getting any answers, but he’s giving it his best shot. He’d like to be able to figure out what happened and put the families involved at rest.”
“That’s all right. Can I take some of your time to talk about her?”
“Thank you. Is it okay if I record the conversation?”
“What can you tell me regarding your relationship with Charlotte?”
“You were both chess players?”
“When did she get her doctorate, do you know?”
“If you’d been a physicist, would you have done that?”