Chapter 33

Fifteen minutes earlier, Simon paced the gallery's office, waiting for a call from Phillip.

When his cell finally rang, he snatched it up and said, "Is it set?"

"Mr. Duchamp?" said a voice that did not belong to Phillip.

"Who is this?"

"Nico Savage."

"My apologies, Mr. Savage. I thought you were someone else."

"Mr. Petry would like an update."

"You can tell him the second Matilda Stone will be in my possession within the hour."

"And the third?"

"By Friday, as promised," Simon said, more confident than he felt.

Simon heard muffled voices on the other end, then Savage came back on and said, "Mr. Petry asked me to express his appreciation for your efforts."

"Pleasing my clients is always a priority. Now, if there's nothing else, I have a rather busy afternoon."

"We understand you're in Los Angeles."

"Well, um, yes." Simon hadn't told them that, but it wasn't like his presence in the city was a secret.

"So, today's delivery will be happening in L.A."

"It will."

"Excellent. Mr. Petry and I arrived a few hours ago and would like to be there when the painting arrives."

"Well…that…um…I don't think—"

"Didn't you just say pleasing your clients is a priority?"

"Yes, of course, but—"

"Mr. Petry insists we be there."

"That was never part of our agreement."

"It is now."

"You can't simply change the terms on the fly."

"One moment."

More muffled voices, then Nico said to Simon, "Mr. Petry says that he understands the inconvenience, but if you refuse, the deal is off, and he expects our deposit to be returned immediately."

Simon wasn't about to refund a half million dollars even if Petry wanted to call the deal off.

But before he could say anything, Nico continued, "And Mr. Petry wants to make sure you understand that if you don't refund the money, he will honor you with a lovely wreath at your funeral."

Simon had resources, but he had no doubt Petry had even more. "There's no need for threats. I would be happy to have you both join me for the delivery."

"I thought you might. Where shall we meet you?"

"I have a gallery in town."

"On Melrose. Coincidentally, we're parked in front. Would it be all right if we come in now?"

"No," Simon blurted out. "I mean, not through the front. There's a parking lot in back. Pull in there and I'll meet you at the rear door."

As soon as they hung up, Simon called Phillip. "Well?"

"I don't think we need to worry about the Monica Reyes problem anymore."

"When can you get back here?"

"An hour, hour and a half. Why? You need me?"

"Petry and Nico will be here in a minute."

"If I leave right now, I might make it in forty-five."

"That will probably be too late. Wait until they arrest her, then come back."

"Will do."

"Wait here," Benji said to Devin and Sticks.

He climbed out of their car, jogged to the back door of his brother's gallery, and pressed the buzzer.

Within seconds, Simon yanked the door open and peered out. "Finally."

"You want us to bring it inside?"

Simon lowered his voice to a whisper. "Of course I want you to bring it inside. What are you? An idiot?"

Benji signaled Devin and Sticks to fetch the painting.

"The client is here," Simon said, his voice still low. "None of you say anything. Got it?"

"Got it."

"I mean it. Not one word."

"I said I got it."

Simon held his gaze for a moment, then headed away, forcing Benji to catch the door to keep it from closing again.

Devin's right, Benji thought. Simon really is a prick.

When Devin and Sticks arrived with the container that held the stolen painting, Benji told them what Simon wanted.

"Whatever," Devin said.

Sticks acted like he hadn't even heard, but he never said that much anyway, so Benji took his silence for a yes. He pushed the door all the way open, and they carried in the painting.

Simon waved Benji and his flunkies over to the sitting area, where he, Petry, and Nico waited. "Hurry up."

They carried the package over and laid it on the coffee table.

Simon tried to pull off the Bubble Wrap, but there was too much tape.

"I got it," Benji said, pulling out a pocketknife.

Simon shot his brother a glare to remind him he wasn't supposed to speak, then snapped, "Be careful!"

Petry snorted. "Like it really matters."

"Excuse me?" Simon asked.

Nico forced a smile. "Mr. Petry is excited to see it, that's all."

That was not what it sounded like to Simon, nor was the sneer on Petry's face helping to sell the excuse.

After Benji finished and stepped out of the way, Simon peeled back the wrapping. For a second, he lost himself in the beauty of the piece until Petry jerked him out of his reverie.

"That's it?"

"Were you expecting something different?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought it would be more impressive."

"More impressive?" If Simon hadn't had doubts about Petry's intentions before, he did now.

Nico whispered in his boss's ear.

Petry rolled his eyes, then said to Simon, "I meant, sure, it's impressive. Love it. Where's the special one?"

"The special one?"

"From the list," Nico clarified

"Right. It's stored elsewhere. We can set up a time to see it later, if you'd like."

Petry nodded at the painting on the coffee table. "It's like this one, right?"

"Well, no. The subjects are completely different."

Nico started to lean toward Petry again, but Petry waved him off. "I know they're different. I just meant— You know what? Never mind."

"So, you don't want to see it?"

Nico smiled. "What Mr. Petry means is he can wait until you have all three."

"Of course." It was actually a relief to Simon. The less time he spent in these men's company, the better.

"You only have forty-eight hours left," Petry said. "You damn well better get the last one in time."

"Have no fear. It will be here by then." Simon could feel Benji's surprised gaze on him, but he kept his attention on his clients.

"When should we come by to pick them up?"

"I can't give you a specific time yet."

Petry looked over at Benji, Devin, and Sticks. "These your guys?"

Sticks snorted. "I'm nobody's guy."

"No disrespect intended. I meant, you're the ones who do the stealing, right?"

Sticks sneered at Simon. "You think he has the balls to do it?"

Petry smiled. "Oh, I like you. Do you do all his dirty work?"

Having heard more than enough, Simon stood. "Mr. Petry, Mr. Savage, thank you for coming. I'll let you know when you can collect your paintings."

He motioned to the door, but Petry remained seated, his attention still on Sticks.

"I'm curious. I gotta think there's a lot of security around these things. How do you get around that?"

Simon shot Benji and the others a warning gaze, then said, "Mr. Petry, how we conduct our business is none of your concern. Please." He motioned toward the back door. "I have many things I need to deal with this afternoon."

Petry's attention stayed on Sticks for another moment, then he stood. "I look forward to our next meeting. We can see ourselves out."

"What the hell was all that?" Simon yelled as soon as Petry and Nico were gone.

"Sorry," Benji said. "Sticks didn't—"

"I told you to say nothing!"

While Benji was cowed and kept his mouth shut, the same could not be said for Sticks.

"I don't see what the big deal is."

"Of course you don't, because you don't understand the bigger picture. If I tell you to keep quiet, then you keep quiet."

Sticks made an exaggerated bow. "I'm sorry, boss man."

"That's right. I am the boss. Don't forget it."

"Kinda hard to do when you—"

"Sticks," Benji hissed.

Sticks mimed zipping his mouth shut.

Simon shook his head in disgust, then turned and walked toward his office. "Benji, come with me. We need to discuss the next job."

Once Simon and Benji disappeared into Simon's office, Devin plopped down on the break-area couch.

"Might as well take a load off," he said to Sticks. "Who knows how long they'll be in there."

Instead, Sticks headed for the back door.

"Where you going?" Devin asked.

"Out for a smoke."

"That stuff will kill you."

Sticks flipped him off without looking back, then stepped out into the parking lot.

He leaned against the wall and pulled out his cigarettes. As he was knocking one out of the pack, he heard the hum of a car window opening.

"Hey, buddy."

Sticks looked over.

The younger of the two men who'd just met with Simon was smiling at him from inside a black BMW 530i.

"You got a minute?"

"Maybe," Sticks said.

"Easier to talk if you come over here."

Sticks put the unlit cigarette behind his ear and walked over to the car. "What's up?"

"My boss would like to have a word with you." The guy motioned to the back seat. "In private."

Sticks glanced back at the gallery's rear door, then shrugged. "Why not?" He climbed into the back seat.

The older guy, the one who'd done most of the talking earlier, held out a hand. "Winston Petry."

Sticks shook it. "Sticks."

"Nice to meet you, Sticks." Petry motioned to the driver. "That's Nico Savage. He's one of my lawyers."

Sticks and Nico exchanged nods.

"I'm here. What do you want?"

"You seem like a man who could help me out."

"Help you out how?"

"I'm based out of New York. Which, unfortunately, means I don't have a lot of connections out here. Specifically, connections that are not averse to breaking the law. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I get you." Sticks didn't mention that he wasn't from L.A., either.

"I knew you would. See, I have a delicate task that I need taken care of, and my gut tells me you could connect me to the right person. If you can, I'll pay you a finder's fee."

"What kind of fee?"

"How does five thousand dollars sound?"

That was more than Sticks earned per job for Simon. But if there was one thing he knew in his world, it was never to take the first offer. "Ten sounds better."

Petry laughed. "You get me the right guy, and you'll have your ten. But this conversation can never get back to Duchamp."

"Like I'd tell him anything."

"Your buddies might."

"Not if they don't know."

Petry sneered. "So, we have a deal?"

"You haven't told me what you want yet. I might not know anyone who can help you."

"The worst possible outcome would be you don't make any money." Petry held out his hand.

Sticks took it and said, "Deal. So, what's the job?"

As Petry explained what he wanted done with the paintings, Sticks couldn't keep a grin from spreading across his face. He didn't give a crap about art. But destruction, that was something to get excited about.

When Petry finished, Sticks said, "Shit, man, that's diabolical. Make sure Simon doesn't find out. I accidentally brushed a finger against one of his precious paintings once, and he freaked. Said I was getting oils all over it. If he knew what you're going to do, he wouldn't give them to you."

"He's not going to find out from me. But even if he knew, what's he going to do?"

"I take it you haven't met Phillip yet."

"Who's Phillip?"

"His muscle. Big as a tank and smart. I avoid him whenever possible."

"Nico?"

"I'll look into it," Nico said.

Petry smiled and returned his attention to Sticks. "Back to getting someone to help me. Does anyone come to mind?"

"Oh, yeah. I know the perfect person."

"See, I knew I could count on you."

"I'll need to know how much you'll pay him."

"What do you think is fair?"

Sticks pretended to consider the question. "He'd probably do it for twenty-five K."

Petry thought for a moment, then nodded. "Done. How do I contact him?"

"You already have."

"What do you mean?"

"You're looking at the perfect guy right here."