Page 72 of The Chase
“I applied to work here,” I admitted. “Not enough experience, apparently.”
“That’s because the higher-ups don’t know talent,” he said. “Don’t quote me.”
“The art world is competitive,” I said. “A clique of experts that’s difficult to break into.”
“How did you know?” Andrew stared at the Monet.
“Couple of things, the forger used a hair dryer to mimic the minute spiderweb effect of an aging canvas, but he was too heavy-handed with the heat.” I beamed at them. “To be honest you both looked excited right up until you read the results on the scanner. Let me take a guess, the machine picked up titanium white?”
“Didn’t exist back in Monet’s day,” agreed Sam.
“Do the criminals really think you won’t check?” I said.
“They’re duping the buyer,” said Sam. “Newbies to art have no idea that the pallets today weren’t around in Monet’s day.”
“It’s like any con, isn’t it?” Andrew scrunched up his nose and mimicked with a sly tone, “We have to move fast. I have another buyer interested. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to own a painting that will change your life.”
“Cruel.” I ran my fingers over the Monet. “Making people part with their savings for a fake.”
“So what do you have for me?” Andrew gestured to my satchel.
“The Jaeger case.”
“Great, let’s take a look.”
Andrew and I headed to his corner office, and I removed the paperwork the Jaeger family had provided to prove they’d owned the Edvard Munch for generations. Together, we examined each piece of evidence, which included a sales receipt and a letter of authentication stamped with Christie’s name and address. Mr. Jaeger had even provided a black-and-white photo taken in 1920 of his grandfather sitting at a kitchen table with the painting hanging behind him.
Time dissolved as I took detailed notes and cross-referenced what I had.
Half an hour later, Andrew led me through the auction house and we settled at a large oak table in the center on the library. Shelf after shelf of ancient-looking books surrounded us, filling the air with a musky scent.
Andrew ran his fingers over the line of Christie’s sale ledgers, until he found the one for our year.
There, clearly in black ink was written proof that the painting had been purchased by the Jaeger family. Copies were made and the rest of the paperwork compiled. After an hour I had what I needed to proceed.
With a glance at my phone I was disappointed to see no reply from Logan. At least I could show this as evidence to Tobias that I’d tried to contact him.
I respected Tobias’s time and he needed to respect mine. No matter how sexy that dominating tone of his was, I wasn’t dropping my plans on a whim to please him. I’d already compromised my usual high standards for him at the palace and proven I was flexible—
I pushed aside these reckless thoughts of him.
And signed Christie’s visitor’s ledger, scribbling a side note referencing the reason for my visit. I slid the book back to Andrew and smiled at the charm of still using a ledger.
“Old traditions die hard,” he said knowingly. “I’ll enter this into the database.” His frown deepened. “You’re not Bertram Leighton’s daughter, are you?” He sounded incredulous.
“Yes, did you know him?”
“No.”
“He passed away.”
“I read his obituary inThe Times. Online. Not the newspaper.” He cringed. “Not sure why I said that.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Me too. He was a good man.”
