Chapter 27

After lunch, Stone and Dino met with Ben in his office to go over the agenda for the board meeting, so it was nearing four p.m. by the time they returned to the Arrington.

They found Monica in Stone's private pool, floating on a raft.

She shaded her eyes and smiled. "I was wondering when you were coming back."

"We would have returned sooner if I'd known you were waiting. Can I interest anyone in a vodka gimlet?" Stone had made a pitcher before leaving for the studio that should be perfectly chilled by now.

"That sounds divine," Monica said.

"What she said," Dino replied.

"Coming right up."

By the time Stone made it back with the drinks, Monica had left her raft and was sitting at the nearby umbrella-shaded table with Dino.

"Any luck with Tristan?" Stone asked.

"He wasn't home, so I went to the last place your friend said his phone had pinged. You're never going to believe where I found him."

"In an art gallery?"

She looked at him, surprised. "How did you know?"

"It seemed a logical leap."

"I'll have to give you that one." Her disappointment turned into a devilish sneer. "But I bet you can't guess the name of the gallery."

"Duchamp Gallery." It was the first gallery name that came to mind, only because it was the last one he'd visited.

She crossed her arms. "I'm never playing this game with you again."

"You mean I'm right?"

"You are, but don't you dare try to rub it in."

Dino looked back and forth between them. "I feel like I'm missing a crucial piece of information."

"Monica and I met at the Duchamp Gallery in Santa Fe. If memory serves, she was there to meet a contact for her investigation."

"That's correct," she said.

"The art theft ring you were telling me about?" Dino said.

Monica nodded.

"What happened to your contact there?" Dino asked.

"Remember that fatal car crash I asked you to look into?" Stone said.

"Yeah."

"That's what happened to him."

"Now I'm starting to get it."

"What did they say when you talked to them?" Monica asked.

"That they didn't suspect foul play. But maybe I should suggest they take a closer look."

"Not a bad idea," Stone said.

"Did he work at the Santa Fe gallery?"

"No idea," Monica said. "He only said he'd contact me at the opening night of the exhibit. I assumed he would have been just another guest, but given where Tristan works, maybe I was wrong."

"I'll check that, too," Dino said.

"What happened when you found Tristan?" Stone asked.

"As soon as he realized who I was, he told me to leave."

"Not happy to see you, no doubt."

"More like terrified, I think. It was like he couldn't get me out the door fast enough. I did try to make an alternative meetup." She explained about telling Tristan she would wait for him at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel that evening.

"Did he agree?"

"No, but I made sure he knew I'd be there, if he changes his mind. Hopefully, he'll show."

"Would you mind some company?"

"He might get scared off if I'm not alone."

"I can sit nearby. He'll never know we're together."

She considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Actually, that's a great idea."

"Dino, you've never been to the Roosevelt, have you?"

"I haven't."

"You want to join us?"

"Let me check my social calendar." He took a sip of his gimlet. "You're in luck. My evening is free."

"It's settled, then."

"Thank you both," Monica said. She took a sip of her gimlet. "That was my afternoon. What kind of trouble did you two get up to while I was away?"

"We had lunch with our sons, at Centurion Pictures."

"I bet she'd be interested in what Billy told us," Dino said.

"Billy who?" Monica asked.

"Billy Barnett, Peter's producer," Stone said. "He joined us for lunch, too."

"And what did he tell you?"

"He recently purchased a painting by my mother. It was to be delivered yesterday, but the delivery van was intercepted en route, and the painting stolen."

"That's horrible. But that's not the MO of the people I've been investigating."

"I haven't told you the pertinent part yet."

"Please, go on."

"The thieves redirected the van onto a road that was blocked off by a wall of fire."

"Fire?" That had her attention.

"When the van stopped, the robbers sprayed them with a knockout gas, took the painting, and left. The fire had begun to spread to the surrounding brush by the time Billy found them. If the fire department hadn't reacted so quickly, dozens of homes could have been destroyed."

"You said Billy Barnett is the owner of the painting?"

"Correct."

She thought for a few moments. "I don't think he's insured by Vitale."

"You know all Vitale's customers?" Dino asked.

"The ones with expensive art pieces, I do. I'll ask around and see what I can find out. Thanks for the tip."

"Leaving early?"

Tristan jerked in surprise, then glanced over at Mr. Duchamp's ever-present bodyguard, Phillip.

"My shift ended at seven, so I'm actually late." It was 7:45.

"I see. My mistake. Heading home then?"

Tristan nodded.

"Have a nice night."

"Thanks."

Tristan exited the gallery through the rear door that led into the small parking lot behind the building.

As he climbed into his Prius, his gaze flicked back to the gallery, half expecting to see Phillip standing outside, watching him. But the bodyguard wasn't there.

Quit overthinking,he told himself.

Even if Mr. Duchamp had seen Monica Reyes come into the gallery, there was no way he would have known who she was. And Mr. Duchamp had not been in the main gallery when she visited. Tristan was sure about that.

He pulled onto the street and headed east toward his place in Echo Park, anxiety burning a hole in his stomach.

"Dammit, Joshua."

What had he been thinking, giving the woman Tristan's number?

It's not like Tristan had firsthand knowledge of anything.

Tristan had met Joshua more than a year ago, when Joshua had come to the shop to pick up something. He hadn't worked for any of the galleries but did what he'd called special projects for Mr. Duchamp.

They'd struck up a friendship, and over time, Joshua told Tristan about Mr. Duchamp's illegal activities. He said his job was to deliver stolen artwork to buyers.

The stories had been riveting, but the truth was, Tristan had never fully believed him. That is, not until Joshua died and something he'd said began playing on repeat in Tristan's head. "If I turn up dead someday, it'll be because Mr. D doesn't want me around."

Tristan had laughed then, like it was some kind of joke, but he wasn't laughing now.

"Shit."

He swerved into the left-turn lane.

He'd stop by the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel and tell the woman enough to ease his mind, then never talk to her again.

He could do that much for his dead friend.

Stone, Monica, and Dino dined at Koi on La Cienega, then made their way to the Roosevelt, where a pair of valets opened the doors.

"Do me a favor," Stone said to the one who took his keys. "Keep it close." He slipped the man a hundred-dollar bill.

"No problem, sir."

Stone joined Dino and Monica on the sidewalk.

"What time do you have?" she asked.

Stone checked his watch. "Ten to eight."

"I doubt he'll be here yet."

"If he comes at all," Dino said.

"I'll go in first," she said. "Wish me luck."

"It'll be fine," Stone said.

She crossed her fingers, then walked into the hotel.

They gave her a five-minute head start, then went inside.

"Wow," Dino said as they stepped into the chandelier-lit lobby. "Not bad. Reminds me of old Hollywood."

"This is old Hollywood. The first Academy Awards were held here."

"In this room?"

"In one of the ballrooms, I believe."

"I guess that makes more sense. Be strange if someone was trying to check in while Clark Gable was getting an Oscar."

"Your deductive reasoning never fails to amaze me."

They made their way to the bar, took the table two away from Monica's, and signaled for the waiter.

Phillip watched Tristan through the spy hole in the gallery's rear door. As soon as the Prius pulled out of the lot, Phillip jogged outside. After seeing which way Tristan turned on Melrose, he hopped into the town car and took up pursuit.

Tristan headed east, but instead of continuing to his home in Echo Park, he stopped in Hollywood and parked down a side street near Grauman's Chinese Theatre.

Phillip drove past him and found an empty spot half a block down. Watching through the rear window, he saw Tristan exit his car and start walking toward Hollywood Boulevard. He hopped out and followed.

Tristan was a half block from the boulevard when he turned into a parking lot, vanishing from sight. Phillip quickened his pace and caught a brief glimpse of Tristan right before he disappeared again, this time through the entrance of the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel.

Phillip could wait until the kid reemerged, but he needed to find out what Tristan was up to.

He entered the hotel and paused long enough to scan the lobby and determine Tristan wasn't present. If he'd gone to one of the rooms, then Phillip wasn't going to find him, but that wasn't the only place Tristan could be.

Phillip approached one of the hotel employees. "Does this place have a bar?"