Page 76 of Forging Caine

Fiori nodded again, gesturing with his hand for me to continue.

“But I discovered something else concerning. Vermeer was known for many things, and one of them was his stunning work with blue shades. He used ultramarine predominantly in his paintings, but this one uses indigo and smalt to a degree I wouldn’t expect from a genuine Vermeer.”

Fiori scratched at his temple. “You’re certain?”

“If I had more time and resources, I could be certain that—”

“No.” His lips tightened and he looked at Baptiste, whose gaze had fallen on Samantha’s legs. “I meant, are you certain this is the advice you want to give me?”

“I’m not sure.” I folded my arms on the table, suddenly conscious that I was the only one sitting forward. It was a position of less calm than the others, but I was there, so I had to remain. “There are other people who are far more experienced with Vermeer’s paintings and may have gathered evidence to dispute—”

He let out a long sigh and sat forward, matching my posture. “You know, I’ve had other people look at it, and I was told it’s fine. Why do you think that is?”

“As I said, I’m not an expert in this.”

“Do you think it’s simply because they’re telling me what I want to hear?” He seemed genuine, as though asking for my guidance. “Maybe they’re afraid of what would happen if they displeased me?”

No, he was not looking for my guidance.

“The truth is, Antonio, I don’t want to put this painting up for sale and be made a fool of. If it’s a fake, that destroys my reputation.” He held out a hand, palm up, as though wanting me to take it or put something in it. “And was the lovely Ms. Caine involved in your analysis?”

I spoke before she could start asking him questions again. “She was. She has a great deal of experience with art claims. You may not remember this from September, but she’s an insurance adjuster.”

“I think you mean she’s in special investigations?” How did he know that?

“Sì, overseeing the work of the adjusters and underwriters at the insurance company where she works.”

“And fraud?” He shifted his focus to her. “Isn’t that right, Ms. Caine?”

She pulled her chair closer to the table. “Please, call me Samantha. And yes, my role shifted a few months ago, so I work primarily ensuring no one defrauds the insurance company. Some people exaggerate injuries or car accidents.”

“You see?” His focused zoomed in on her, leaning further forward and dropping his voice. “That’s exactly what I mean. If I’ve been defrauded on this painting, I should find out, shouldn’t I? And I certainly shouldn’t defraud anyone else? Just likeThe Music Lesson. I wouldn’t hang it in my house and tell someone it was the real thing when it’s not. A man is only as good as his word, and if every word out of his mouth is a lie, how much is that man worth?” He smiled at her. “Or, of course, how much is that woman worth?”

Samantha moved closer still, as though we were having an old chat among friends, rather than one that sounded like threats and insinuations. “Did you buy it from someone you trust?”

I unfolded one of my arms and touched her hand. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate question.”

Fiori continued. “What I find most interesting is that the others couldn’t prove it was a fake, so they told me it was real. You, on the other hand, Antonio…” He placed the open palm down on the table. “You can’t prove it’s real, so you tell me it might be a fake. Does that make you the glass half empty person?”

“I think it makes me cautious.”

“An admirable quality.”

“And speaking of admiration and appreciation…” I looked at Samantha, wanting little more than to hop on one of the boats with her and never look back. “I’ve done this work for you. What about our families?”

Baptiste raised two fingers over his shoulder and a bodyguard shifted to listen to his whispers.

Fiori said, “Who would punish one person for the sins of another?”

The bodyguard nodded, straightened, and turned his head while stepping back into his original place. His lips moved, but I couldn’t make anything out.

Fiori’s eyes narrowed. “Particularly a niece or nephew for the actions of their uncle or aunt?”

Che cazzo. The moisture in my mouth dried up. Was he talking about my uncle? He’d threatened my nephew and Samantha’s niece. He was planning to punish me for Zio Giovanni’s actions?

Samantha pushed her chair back, scraping its metal feet against the stone underneath us. “So, we’re done?”

I felt, more than saw, figures approach me.

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