Page 91 of Sleigh Bells and Snowstorms
Without waiting for me to reply, he continued moving slowly through the room and gestured to a large painting of a woman in a fancy white dress posing in a plush red armchair. “The painting is also Russian, same time period.”
“You must have a love for Russian art.”
“I have a love for pieces that are rare or…difficult to obtain.”
I hope you’re hearing this, Jensen.
“This is fascinating,” I said. “I saw some things when I walked in. Can you show me?”
“I’d love to.”
I sipped my wine as he showed me around the first floor, highlighting the various art pieces he had on display. They were from all over the world. Statues from Italy and France. A painting from Spain. A glass case filled with artifacts from Colombia and Brazil. A colorful tapestry from South Africa.
“Have you traveled to all these places?” I asked. “These don’t seem like the sorts of things you can find at regular art galleries.”
“I acquired some of them personally. But I also have some associates in the art world who procured certain pieces for me.”
A necklace displayed in a glass case caught my eye. It was gold strung with two layers of diamonds and pearls. It wasn’tthenecklace, of course, but I hoped I could get him talking about his jewelry.
“This is beautiful. Do you collect jewelry as well?”
“Some. Especially antique jewelry. I’m not interested in diamonds for their own sake, but when they’re crafted into something like this, they’re worth having.”
“It tells a story. I can almost imagine the woman who wore it. Do you have more like this?”
"I do. It’s in the dining room.”
On the way, he pointed out a few more paintings, hinting each time that they were rare, and therefore expensive.
“He’s sure trying to impress you,” Jensen said quietly in my ear.
It wasn’t working.
The dining room had an ornate table and chairs with a matching cabinet on one wall. The windows Jensen and I had looked through opened to the side of the property. The shadowy outline of the iron fence was visible, as were the snow-covered trees beyond.
“This is one of my favorite pieces.” He picked up the glass case with the brooch. It had a large square-cut emerald in the center surrounded by a starburst pattern of gold-set diamonds.
I touched my hand to my chest, emphasizing my awe. “It’s so beautiful. Is it an antique?”
“Victorian era. It belonged to a British noblewoman.”
“Stolen,” Jensen whispered.
“Where did you get it?”
He smiled. “This one was a bit of an adventure to acquire. It came from the UK.”
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. He set it back on the cabinet, and I didn’t miss the hint of a smirk that crossed his features.
“Ready for dinner?” He gestured to the table, already set with two place settings across from each other, including wineglasses. “Have a seat. I’ll bring everything in.”
“Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“Absolutely. I’ll be right back.”
“I hope he’s our thief,” Jensen said. “I very much want to screw him over.”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh, and took a seat.
