“It sounded that way to me.”
“I’ll have it for you in two days.”
“That’s better.”
“But I want...”
“You want what?”
“I... I want double my usual fee.”
Simon narrowed his eyes. “Standard fee, per our agreement.”
“I’m updating our agreement.”
Simon didn’t respond.
“Or I guess I could let the authorities know about your operation.”
“You seem to forget that if I go down, you go down with me.”
“Mutually assured destruction. But then again, you’re the bigger fish, which means it should be easy to get immunity in exchange for my testimony.”
Simon definitely needed to start looking for a new source. This wasn’t just boring, it was getting on his nerves.
“All right, Mr. Conroy. Double fee on this job. But this is a onetime thing. Do not expect it to happen again in the future.”
“Whatever you say.”
Simon stabbed the disconnect button and then called Phillip, his bodyguard.
“Yes, Mr. Duchamp?”
“I’m in the back office.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Phillip entered a few moments later. He was a big, bald slab of muscle shoved into a black suit and tie. Because of this, he was often assumed to be lacking intelligence. That was far from the case.
“I’m growing concerned about Dalton Conroy,” Simon said.
“I see.”
“I don’t want you to do anything yet, but I have a feeling our relationship with him will soon need to be terminated.”
“I’ll await your word.”
“Thank you, Phillip. How are we doing on the other matter?”
“I should have the problem dealt with soon.”
“Have you figured out who it is?”
“I’ll know by tomorrow evening.”
There was a leak somewhere in Simon’s operation. Ironically, he would not have known about it if not for Dalton. The leaker had apparently contacted an investigator who worked under him. Unfortunately, Dalton didn’t know the leaker’s identity.
“Very good. The sooner we can put this behind us, the better.”
“Understood.”
Chapter 15
The following evening, Stone and the Eagles enjoyed an excellent steak dinner, then headed to the exhibit at Duchamp Gallery.
The place was packed with people dressed in everything from Prada dresses and Armani suits to ripped Levi’s and BlackPink T-shirts. Stone spotted three well-known actors who had vacation homes in the area, and an aging pop star now famous for judging TV singing shows.
“The artist is local,” Susannah said. “Ivonne Cervantes. Have you heard of her?”
“I haven’t,” Stone admitted.
“Then you’re in for a treat.”
There were more than thirty paintings on display, most of them mounted to the walls, with a few scattered throughout the space, hanging from the ceiling on wires.
Susannah guided them to the nearest piece, a stunning photo-realistic portrait of an older Hispanic woman defiantly staring forward, over an abstract background of multicolored rays.
Susannah was right. Cervantes’s work was stunning.
A woman approached, smiling broadly. She had long salt-and-pepper hair that fell well below her shoulders and looked like a younger version of the woman in the painting.
“Ed, Susannah, I’m so glad you could make it.”
She gave them each a kiss on the cheek.
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Susannah said. “Stone, I’d like to introduce you to Ivonne Cervantes. Ivonne, this is our friend Stone Barrington.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barrington.”
“Please, call me Stone. And the pleasure is all mine, Ms. Cervantes. Your work is exquisite.”
“You are too kind. And if I’m to call you Stone, then you must call me Ivonne.”
“Ivonne, then.” He gestured to the painting “I take it she’s a relative.”
She smiled. “My mother.”
“Speaking of mothers,” Susannah said. “You may be familiar with Stone’s.”
“Oh? And who is she?”
“Matilda Stone,” Stone said.
“My God. I love her work.”
“As do I.”
“I attended an exhibit in New York that included several pieces of hers. They drew me in instantly.”
“She would have appreciated that. For me, each is more than just the painting itself. They’re memories of her and my father and our lives together. Which makes them priceless as far as I’m concerned.”
“Do you own many yourself?”
“Not nearly as many as I’d like.” He looked back at the painting on the wall near them. “I must say, your work shares the same qualities as hers.”
Ivonne tucked her arm through his. “For that, you get a guided tour. And, please, don’t feel the need to hold back on compliments.”
She took Stone and the Eagles around the gallery, giving insights into each painting they passed.
They were about halfway through the exhibit when a man approached, smiling broadly. “And who do we have here?”
He couldn’t have been more than five and a half feet tall, and was dressed in a vibrant blue suit, matching blue tie, and black shirt. His thick-framed glasses were also blue, and his spiked graying hair seemed glued in place.
“These are my good friends Susannah and Ed Eagle, and their friend Stone Barrington,” Ivonne said. She motioned to the man. “This is Simon Duchamp, owner of the gallery.”
Simon flashed a set of bright white teeth. “Isn’t Ivonne’s work marvelous?” Without waiting for an answer, he leaned forward and stage-whispered, “We’ve already sold six. So, if there’s one you’re interested in, I wouldn’t wait too long.”
“Oh, Simon, stop with the hard sell,” Ivonne said, though the news clearly pleased her.
“Are you collectors?” Simon asked.
“We have several works by local artists in our home,” Ed said. “Including two by Ivonne.”
“I love hearing that. And you, Mr. Barrington?”
“I am.”
“His mother was Matilda Stone,” Ivonne says.
Simon’s expression seemed to momentarily freeze, then his eyes brightened as if he were impressed. “My, my. That’s wonderful. Such a talent. Do you have any of her paintings?”
“Over a dozen.”
“How remarkable. Would you ever consider selling any? If so, I know I wouldn’t have any problem finding a buyer.”
“Not even if I was down to my last penny. But if you ever hear of one coming on the market, I would be very interested. I take pleasure in finding them and adding to my collection.” Stone pulled out a business card and handed it to Simon.
“If that happens, you’ll be my first call.” Simon slipped the card into his pocket. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. Ivonne, there’s someone you should meet.”
“Do you mind continuing on your own?” Ivonne asked.
“We’ve already monopolized you more than we should have,” Stone said.
“Nonsense. I enjoyed every second.”
“Lunch next week?” Susannah asked her.
“Absolutely.” Ivonne gave them a quick wave and followed Simon into the crowd.
Ed excused himself to use the restroom, and Stone and Susannah moved to the next painting, joining two women who were already admiring it. Both had dark hair, one with hers cut just above her shoulders, and the other with hers falling halfway down her back. The former looked familiar to Stone, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her.
“Donna?” Susannah said.
The woman with shorter hair looked over. “Susannah.”
They hugged.
“It’s good to see you out,” Susannah said.
She introduced her to Stone as Donna Otero, and upon hearing the name, he realized she was one of the people who’d left Ed’s office the day before.