Page 60 of Stuart Woods' Smolder

“Itisa boys’ club, so kind of. But he’s developed his special brand of assholery.”

“Why did Dalton think you’re working on something?”

“Because I am.”

“And that would be?”

“The same case I was working on at Vitale when he let me go. He thinks it’s a waste of time, but I know it isn’t. And once I crack it, I’ll present my report to his bosses and gethimfired.”

“That’s what he meant by the going rogue comment?”

She nodded.

“What’s the case?”

“I specialize in art theft, and it’s my belief that there’s an organized ring operating in the States right now.”

“You have evidence of this?”

“It’s admittedly thin, but I trust my instincts, and my instincts say something’s going on.”

The path forked, and Stone guided them onto the trail on the left. “I would think that kind of theft would be easy to prove. I mean, a piece of art is either there or it’s not.”

“You would think so, but it’s not quite as clear-cut as that.”

“How so?”

“One client kept a pair of Picasso drawings on a yacht that, just over a year ago, sank in water deep enough to discourage salvage attempts. Authorities determined it to be an accident, and Vitale forked over a nice check.”

“But you don’t think the drawings went down with the boat.”

“I did at first. But then a few months later, a Matisse, worth millions, was lost in a house fire on Martha’s Vineyard. The only thing left was the corner of a frame.

“Before that a cargo truck that had been transporting a Frida Kahlo went up in flames. Then there was another boat that burned and sank on Lake Michigan with several expensive pieces on board. And I’ve found at least two other cases where insured artworks were destroyed in ways that made identification impossible. But while I saw a pattern, Dalton thought I was making something out of nothing.”

“Then Dalton’s an idiot, though I guess we’ve already established that. Do you have anything concrete that connects the cases together?”

“Not yet, but I’m close. That’s why I’m in Santa Fe actually. I was contacted by someone who claimed to have information about a couple of the destroyed paintings. Before I could set up an official meeting with him, Dalton fired me. I wasn’t going to give up, though. I kept pressing the source. Three days ago, he agreed to meet me at the Ivonne Cervantes opening last night. But right before Donna and I arrived, he texted saying that heneeded to postpone until today. I haven’t heard a peep from him since.”

“Cold feet?”

“I’m hoping not.”

“What’s his name?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know if he’s a man. All our communication has been either by e-mail or text.”

“Has he given you anything you can use?”

She shook her head. “He was going to do that when we met in person. What do you think? Am I wasting my time on nothing?”

“Even with the little you’ve told me I can see it’s worth looking into.”

“Thank you, Stone. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that.”

“You know, if things don’t work out with Vitale or even if they do and you’d like to take your talents elsewhere, I can be of some assistance.”

“Does your firm employ fraud investigators?”

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