we’ll just have to see if it pays off.” He sat down beside her, put his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close. He felt her stiffen and gave her a little shake. “You’re cold,and it makes me very frustrated not to be able to help you in some way. Could you not give in and forget your independence to make me feel better? Cousin to cousin?”
“I’m not your—” She stopped. She didn’t want to be independent right now. Independent meant alone, and she didn’t want to be alone. MacDuff’s arm around her shoulders felt strong and good. Let him call her cousin, sister, Great-aunt Fiona, or anything else he wanted. It didn’t matter.
Venable’s expert would be here soon. She would gather her stamina and be ready to face everything again by then. She relaxed against MacDuff and tried not to look at either the oak door where Celine had died or the face of
Guilt
before her.
“That’s better,” MacDuff said.
“Heaven forbid I make you frustrated, MacDuff.”
“Aye.” He smiled. “Heaven forbid.”
“I JUST HEARD FROM VENABLE,” MacDuff said as he walked out of the storage room where Venable’s art expert was working. “No computer billionaire named Donald Sarnoff from San Francisco. No entry records into this country for a Donald Sarnoff.”
“A phony,” Jane said. Excitement was beginning to pierce the veil of exhaustion that was surrounding her. “Why would he lie to Celine? Why would he offer that much money for the painting?”
“Maybe we’ll know soon. I think Cardot is almost finished with his examination.”
“It’s about time.” Paul Cardot had been in that back storage room of the gallery for over two hours. And every hour had seemed an eternity to Jane. “Did he give you any hint about—”
“Nothing,” Cardot said as he came out of the storage room.“The frame is a fine mahogany and has no microdots or any other devices embedded in it. The portrait itself appears to be just what it seems.” He nodded at Jane. “A very fine painting. Unless you, the artist, encoded something in the color or design that I wouldn’t be able to determine without extensive cryptographic analysis, then there’s no reason to believe
Guilt
is anything but a work of art.”
Jane gazed at him with disappointment. When Cardot had unloaded all of his equipment, X-ray machines, special lights, and an entire box of chemicals, she had been encouraged. Then when MacDuff had told her that Sarnoff was a phony, she had hoped they were at last getting to the bottom of this nightmare puzzle. “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “Venable doesn’t send careless professionals to do this kind of examination. He’s going to go over my report with a microscope. Particularly since he knows I’m going to take him to the cleaners for dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night and making me lug all my equipment across town.” He started packing up his bottles into his case. “I’ll be out of your gallery in fifteen minutes, Ms. MacGuire.”
“It’s not my gallery,” Jane said. “I hoped you’d be able to give me some—” She turned away. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll see him out, Jane,” MacDuff said. “If you won’t go to bed, will you go upstairs and rest?”
“Yes.” She glanced at the faint light streaming through the plate-glass window at the front of the gallery. “It’s after eight. Yvette Denarve should be here soon.”
“And you’re in fine shape to deal with her, aren’t you?”
“Good enough.” She turned toward the elevator. “Stop nagging me, MacDuff. I have to do this for Celine.”
“I don’t nag. Nagging is for shrews and—”
“Lairds who want their own way in everything.” She got on the elevator. “Go check on Jock. He hasn’t come inside since that expert showed up.”
He smiled. “Jock can take care of himself now, Jane. No one could do it better. You were never able to grasp the concept that he’s not the brittle lad he was when you
“I’m not your—” She stopped. She didn’t want to be independent right now. Independent meant alone, and she didn’t want to be alone. MacDuff’s arm around her shoulders felt strong and good. Let him call her cousin, sister, Great-aunt Fiona, or anything else he wanted. It didn’t matter.
Venable’s expert would be here soon. She would gather her stamina and be ready to face everything again by then. She relaxed against MacDuff and tried not to look at either the oak door where Celine had died or the face of
Guilt
before her.
“That’s better,” MacDuff said.
“Heaven forbid I make you frustrated, MacDuff.”
“Aye.” He smiled. “Heaven forbid.”
“I JUST HEARD FROM VENABLE,” MacDuff said as he walked out of the storage room where Venable’s art expert was working. “No computer billionaire named Donald Sarnoff from San Francisco. No entry records into this country for a Donald Sarnoff.”
“A phony,” Jane said. Excitement was beginning to pierce the veil of exhaustion that was surrounding her. “Why would he lie to Celine? Why would he offer that much money for the painting?”
“Maybe we’ll know soon. I think Cardot is almost finished with his examination.”
“It’s about time.” Paul Cardot had been in that back storage room of the gallery for over two hours. And every hour had seemed an eternity to Jane. “Did he give you any hint about—”
“Nothing,” Cardot said as he came out of the storage room.“The frame is a fine mahogany and has no microdots or any other devices embedded in it. The portrait itself appears to be just what it seems.” He nodded at Jane. “A very fine painting. Unless you, the artist, encoded something in the color or design that I wouldn’t be able to determine without extensive cryptographic analysis, then there’s no reason to believe
Guilt
is anything but a work of art.”
Jane gazed at him with disappointment. When Cardot had unloaded all of his equipment, X-ray machines, special lights, and an entire box of chemicals, she had been encouraged. Then when MacDuff had told her that Sarnoff was a phony, she had hoped they were at last getting to the bottom of this nightmare puzzle. “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “Venable doesn’t send careless professionals to do this kind of examination. He’s going to go over my report with a microscope. Particularly since he knows I’m going to take him to the cleaners for dragging me out of bed in the middle of the night and making me lug all my equipment across town.” He started packing up his bottles into his case. “I’ll be out of your gallery in fifteen minutes, Ms. MacGuire.”
“It’s not my gallery,” Jane said. “I hoped you’d be able to give me some—” She turned away. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’ll see him out, Jane,” MacDuff said. “If you won’t go to bed, will you go upstairs and rest?”
“Yes.” She glanced at the faint light streaming through the plate-glass window at the front of the gallery. “It’s after eight. Yvette Denarve should be here soon.”
“And you’re in fine shape to deal with her, aren’t you?”
“Good enough.” She turned toward the elevator. “Stop nagging me, MacDuff. I have to do this for Celine.”
“I don’t nag. Nagging is for shrews and—”
“Lairds who want their own way in everything.” She got on the elevator. “Go check on Jock. He hasn’t come inside since that expert showed up.”
He smiled. “Jock can take care of himself now, Jane. No one could do it better. You were never able to grasp the concept that he’s not the brittle lad he was when you
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