"Then don’t let her. Believe me when I say she isn't important."
"Okay, I believe you. I'll see you in a bit." I kissed him and then headed up the path.
When I got back to our suite, I felt some trepidation upon opening the door, but the suite was just as I'd left it. I got a bottle of water from the fridge and took it out to the balcony, taking a few moments to enjoy the view. It was nice to be on my own, no one asking me questions or telling me to smile. But my peaceful moment was interrupted by the ring of the doorbell.
Letting out a sigh, I went back inside. After checking the peephole, I saw Ethan Stark in the corridor. I debated pretending I wasn't there when I heard his voice.
"I know you're in there, Lauren," Ethan said. "I saw you go in on the security camera."
I opened the door. "Now the camera is working?"
"Yes," he said, brushing past me.
I shut the door behind him. "What do you want? Didn't we just have a conversation?"
"We did, but I didn't want to talk to you about this in front of Andrew. I saw that you came up here alone."
"Great. Now you're spying on me?"
"I wasn't, but since I had the opportunity to speak to you alone, I decided to take it. Where is Andrew, anyway?"
"Talking to his friends."
"Does that include Allison?"
I shrugged. "Possibly. But Andrew and I have spoken about her quite a bit today, and I believe him when he says they're just friends, and there's nothing for me to worry about."
"I researched Allison's movements the last few months. Then I cross-referenced her travel with Andrew's to see if any of their trips overlapped. They did. Six weeks ago, they were in Paris at the same time. Did you know that?"
I stared at him in surprise. "Andrew didn't go to Paris six weeks ago. He hasn't been outside the country since we got together."
"He was there March twenty-second to the twenty-sixth."
I thought back to March. Andrew had taken a couple of trips that month, but he'd gone to New York and Chicago. "You're wrong. He wasn't in Paris. He went to New York."
Ethan took out his phone to show me a photo. I really didn't want to look at it, but I couldn't stop myself. It was a receipt from a hotel in Paris, and Andrew's name was on it. But that was impossible. He wouldn't have gone to Paris without telling me.
"Allison was staying in the same hotel," Ethan added. "Different room, though, if that makes you feel better."
"None of this makes me feel good. But even if they were in Paris together, so what?"
"I have a confidential informant who works as a fence in Paris. Someone approached him about the painting by Juan Martine that was allegedly destroyed during the hotel fire. He didn't like the offer, so he turned it down."
"Who are you talking about?"
"The offer was made through a third party; he didn't know the seller."
"But you think the seller was Andrew?"
"Or maybe Allison," he said. "The timing fits. They were both there."
I shook my head in confusion. "I don't know what you want me to say. I don't even know what a fence is."
"It's a person who facilitates the buying and selling of stolen art. The fact that a painting that was allegedly destroyed in a fire is now being offered for sale backs up my theory that it was stolen and not turned to ash. Andrew was in Paris at the time my contact met with a third-party seller offering that same painting. It feels like more than a coincidence."
"Why don't you track down the third-party seller and find out who hired him?"
"I'm in the process of doing that."