Chapter 35

Simon poured the martini into his glass, then took a seat on the couch in his suite at the Verdugo Royale Hotel. He downed a few aspirins with his first sip. If the combo didn't alleviate the headache he'd had since Petry's surprise visit to the gallery, nothing would.

He was more convinced than ever that hiring Rudy to create the forgeries was the right move. There was no question in Simon's mind that Petry had something monstrous in mind for the Stones. He just couldn't figure out what it was. But unless Petry did something to change his mind, the paintings the asshole would be taking with him would be the forgeries from Rudy Morgan.

He sat up, a smile creeping onto his face. That meant the originals would be staying with him. And what better way to rid himself of his headache than priming the pump for their sale to someone who would appreciate them.

He hunted through his suitcase until he found the business card he'd received in New Mexico and dialed the provided cell number.

"Stone Barrington."

"Mr. Barrington, this is Simon Duchamp. We met at Ivonne Cervantes's opening at my gallery in Santa Fe."

"Yes, Mr. Duchamp. I remember you."

"Please, call me Simon."

"Only if you call me Stone. What can I do for you, Simon?"

"You asked me to call if I heard of any of your mother's work coming up for sale. I don't want to get your hopes up yet, but there is the possibility that some will soon be available."

"Some? How many are we talking about?"

"It's my understanding perhaps as many as three."

"That's marvelous. Who's the seller?"

"I'm afraid that's all I know at the moment. It's more rumor than anything, at this point. But if you are interested, I would be happy to investigate it further."

"I would like that very much."

"Then I will make inquiries and get back to you when I know something more."

"I look forward to hearing from you."

Stone hung up, then stared at his kitchen wall, replaying the conversation in his mind.

"Stone?"

He blinked and turned to find Monica in the doorway.

"You looked lost there for a moment," she said. "Are you okay?"

"I just had an interesting phone call."

"From whom?"

"Simon Duchamp."

Monica looked as surprised as Stone felt. "What did he want?"

"Dino's going to want to hear this, too. Can you take this?" He handed her the bottle of wine he'd come to fetch, then got three wineglasses and they returned to the living room where Dino waited. Viv was still dealing with a situation at work and wouldn't be home until later.

As Stone poured drinks for each of them, Monica said, "So?"

"So what?" Dino asked.

"Simon Duchamp just called Stone."

"What did he want?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out."

"He said there might be three paintings by my mother on the market soon," Stone said.

"Your mother?" Monica said. "You don't think…"

"That the pictures he's trying to sell me have been recently stolen?"

Monica nodded.

"If Stone doesn't, I do," Dino said.

"I do, too," Stone said.

Monica frowned. "But if I'm right about the thefts, there are only two missing paintings."

"So far. You might want to tell your friend at Vitale to warn any clients that have one of my mother's pieces of the potential threat."

"Good idea." Monica placed the call, then after several seconds, whispered, "Voicemail. She must be asleep." She left a message explaining the possibility of an upcoming heist.

When she hung up, Stone said, "Is there anyone else you can call?"

"No one who will listen to me."

"So, are we all thinking Simon Duchamp is part of the ring?" Dino said.

"Either that or he's the front they use to sell everything," Stone said.

"Either way, he must know what's going on."

"That he must."

Monica stood, then seemed to think better of it and sat again, frustrated.

"What's wrong?" Stone asked.

"Part of me wants to pay Duchamp a visit right now and find out what he knows. The other part thinks doing so won't accomplish anything because he'll act innocent and claim he has no idea what I'm talking about."

"I'd listen to the second part," Dino said.

"Dino's right," Stone said. "Three people are dead already. If he is involved and we confront him, he may try to add a few more to that total."

"Four people," Dino said. "Don't forget the guy from the fire last night."

Monica blanched. "Then what do we do? Call the police?"

"We could," Stone said. "But all we have now is a suspicion. Law enforcement hasn't even connected all the potential thefts. What we need is something concrete linking Duchamp to at least one of the crimes."

"I'm open to suggestions."

Stone and Dino shared a look, then Stone said, "What we need is the assistance of an expert."

"Do you know any?"

"I do, and he lives here in L.A."

Help arrived at Stone's house one hour later.

"Monica, I'd like you to meet my friend Billy Barnett."

"A pleasure," Billy said, shaking her hand.

"Billy Barnett?" Monica said. "The film producer?"

"One and the same."

"Oh, you're here because your painting was stolen. Has there been any news?"

"Nothing yet."

Monica turned to Stone. "How long until your expert gets here?"

"That would be Billy."

She glanced at each of them. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but how can a movie producer help us?"

"That's an excellent question," Billy said. "What you don't know is that I have a friend who worked in intelligence. If I think he can help, I'll pass on everything to him."

"You're a middleman, then?"

"Exactly."

"I'm not sure if I'm any less confused, but since Stone trusts you, then I do, too."

"Billy, would you like a drink?" Stone said.

"Maybe after you've told me what you need."

"I think that's my cue," Dino said. "If you'll all excuse me, I'm going to call it a night."

Monica looked surprised. "You're not staying?"

Dino feigned a yawn. "Jet lag. Gets me every time."

He headed to the guest room.

"He didn't seem tired before," Monica said.

"Probably because he wasn't," Stone said. "There are some conversations the police commissioner would be better off not hearing."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"You'll get used to it the more you hang around with us."

"The more I hang around you? I like the sound of that."

"We all live in New York. You never know who you'll run into."

She raised an eyebrow. "I hope we can do more than run into each other."

"We will," Stone promised. "Much more."

"I hate to break up whatever's going on here," Billy said, "but I believe there was something you wanted to discuss."

Stone brought Billy up to speed.

After, Billy said, "Any ideas on why Duchamp would be stockpiling your mother's paintings?"

"I've been trying to figure that out but haven't come up with anything. Until a few days ago, I didn't even know who he was."

"What about his gallery in New York? I assume he has one there."

"He does," Monica said.

"Have you ever visited it? Maybe purchased something?"

Stone shook his head. "As far as I know, the only purchase I've ever made from him was in Santa Fe, the night I met him."

"No other ties between you? Something to do with Woodman Weld, perhaps?"

"I can't think of any, but I've left a message for Joan to look into it. I'll let you know if she digs something up."

"I don't suppose that either of you know where Simon is staying."

"Only that he's not at the Arrington." Stone had checked before Billy arrived.

"Okay. I'll talk to my friend. Assume he'll look into it unless you hear differently from me."

They all stood.

"Thanks, Billy," Stone said.

"If either of you think of anything else, let me know. I'll be in touch."