Page 139 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

“First stop?” Stone asked.

“I’ve had a busy day.”

“How so?”

“I put trackers on Duchamp’s and Petry’s cars, and on the one used by the potential art thieves. After meeting with Duchamp, Petry went to Du-par’s Restaurant, then the Four Seasons, where I confirmed he’s staying. The vehicle remained there for fifteen minutes, then headed north, all the way to Simi Valley. That’s northwest of San Fernando Valley. The car remained there for approximately a half hour and then headed back to the hotel.”

“What was Petry doing all the way out there?” Stone asked.

“I don’t know if it was Petry or not, but hopefully we’ll find out.”

“That’s where this packinghouse is?”

“No. Simi Valley is our second stop. The packinghouse is in downtown L.A. It was converted into townhouses years ago. At lunchtime, your friend Simon Duchamp went there.”

“Lunchtime? I met with him around noon.”

“I know. I saw you.”

Stone raised an eyebrow.

Billy told them about Simon leaving soon after they had, with a package that looked exactly like the one brought to him earlier. Billy had followed him to a townhouse at the packinghouse owned by someone named Rudy Morgan.

“Who’s he?” Dino asked.

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Teddy said.

“You said you put trackers on all three cars,” Stone said. “Where did the last one go?”

“It made a stop at a Home Depot, then went to a motel in North Hollywood. It hasn’t moved since.”

They soon arrived at Taylor Foods Packinghouse. Stone andDino went to Rudy Morgan’s front door and waited for Teddy’s signal.

When the text came, Stone rang the doorbell, but no one responded. He pushed it again, and still no one came.

“Maybe Rudy’s not home,” Dino suggested.

Stone called Teddy. “Either he’s out or he’s avoiding visitors.”

“Got it. You guys hang tight. I’m going in.”

Stone hung up, and he and Dino took a walk down the block, so they didn’t look so suspicious. They were almost to the corner when Teddy sent a text.

Front door. Knock once.

They returned and after Stone knocked, Teddy let them in, a finger to his lips.

They followed him down a set of stairs to a dimly lit lower level that appeared to be a single open space. The sounds of deep breathing drew Stone’s attention to a sofa against a wall upon which a person lay, dead asleep.

Teddy led them to a pair of easels deeper in the room and turned on his phone’s flashlight.

On each easel was a version of Stone’s mother’s painting entitledTwilight on the Water, which featured a view of the Williamsburg Bridge from the East River Park. If it weren’t for the fact that one still glistened from fresh paint, the two paintings would have been near identical. Stone had lived with his mother’s work his entire life, though, and it didn’t take new paint for it to be obvious to him which was the original and which a fake.

Teddy guided them to the side of the room, whereSummer at Sheep Meadowleaned against the wall with a look-alikepainting. The fake was even better than that ofTwilight, but even though the forgery had been aged to match the original, Stone could also tell them apart right away.

This painting was special, a snapshot of his life, and for a moment, he was taken back to that carefree day and the picnic he’d had with his parents. While that might have choked him up when he was younger, now it brought a smile to his face.

He forced himself to look away. There would be time to study it later. He held up three fingers, silently asking Billy if the last missing painting was here.

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