Page 97 of Forging Caine

Zane worked at an easel, touching up some damage to a stunning flower by Georgia O’Keeffe. “I started with the Manet when I reviewed them.”

“Why’s that?”

He pushed his glasses onto his head as he zeroed in on his work. “It’s the smallest.”

That was a silly reason to start with the Manet. This was an authentication, not a restoration. Surface area hardly mattered. There were x-rays to be done, infrared photos to take, paint patterns and chemical samples to test. “Grazie, I’ll take that under consideration. Either way, I need to take a walk to clear my head. Bella? Would you like to join me?”

She’d sat behind the computer for the last hour, muttering now and then, but not speaking to anyone. Her gaze drifted to me and then away each time I caught her eyes. “I’m going to stay here, if you don’t mind.”

I walked over to her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, whispering, “I don’t think separating is a good idea.”

She flexed her fingers over the keyboard and took my hand. “If you need to think, me being there probably won’t help. I’ve got a lot of contacts who could give me everything we need, but if I reach out to any of them—”

“Too many questions?”

“Yeah. I’m rusty on a lot of this stuff.”

“Remember, you studied art history. You studied provenance. You worked at museums.” I leaned close and spoke directly into her ear. “And you’ve studied fakes and forgeries. You trained for this.”

She cupped the back of my head, pulling my cheek to hers. “Thanks. I may need to remind myself of that a few times.”

I kissed her cheek and straightened. “Last chance to join me?”

“Go. Use that brain of yours and stop distracting me.” She gave me a weary smile and waved me on my way.

I walked to the main double doors to the hallway and found Jason and the man Samantha had dubbed Bodyguard Three waiting outside.

Jason asked, “Can I get you something, Dr. Ferraro?”

“I was hoping to take a short walk before I get started. Would you mind showing me around? I noticed from our window there are several sculptures in the yard and I thought that might help my brain get going.”

He checked with Bodyguard Three, who nodded. “Certainly.”

We walked together down the long hallway to the curved staircase at the center of the house.

“I expect there’s no discussing your job, is there?” I asked.

“No.”

“Last year, when we met in Capri, Pasquale mentioned his wife. She was onboard then and he invited us to dinner with her. Was she not on the ship this time?”

Jason’s eyes remained straight ahead as we descended the stairs. “You won’t be seeing the family during this visit, other than Baptiste.”

If we were free to roam the house and grounds, not running into them must have meant they weren’t there. “Will we take meals with Pasquale? Or the other conservators?”

“I don’t know.” Jason was not a talkative man. Whether that was due to his training and role as a bodyguard or perhaps he took the job because it was his natural tendency. Or perhaps it was because we were inside the house where other ears could hear us?

He led me through a sitting room, into the foyer with its geometric tiled floor and giant paintings, around a stone table easily eight feet across, with an urn holding white roses tipped in red, which could have come from the garden we’d seen around the hand statue.

We crossed the circular driveway where two gardeners pruned globe hedges and headed along a stonework path edged with ivy.

The fresh air cleared my head but being there with Jason was even more of a distraction than Samantha would have been. “Can we talk yet?”

His face remained impassive. “That depends on what you want to talk about.”

I kept my voice low, despite there not being another soul visible, save one guard at a door hundreds of feet away. “Would Fiori actually kill our families?”

“They wouldn’t be the first.”

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