Read Online psychic crystal 03 - killer cruise by Marilyn Baron - Free Book Online
Authors: Marilyn Baron
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Bradley.”
“Mrs. Bradley,” said Monsieur Pierre Dumas, inclining his head in greeting.
“Mrs. Hale says that she and her mother were speaking to an art auctioneer, who called himself Wade Randall, inside this gallery at around eight p.m. last evening. He showed them around, spoke to them about some artists, and said he was inventorying some paintings. The ladies got a look at those paintings, and from the description, they were of some import.”
“They were priceless pieces,” Kate interjected. “Rembrandts, Monets, a Matisse, a Vermeer, a Jan van Eyck, a Cezanne, even a van Gogh.”
Monsieur Dumas laughed heartily.
“Mrs. Hale, I think you must be mistaken. We don’t have the caliber of paintings you’re talking about anywhere in this gallery, not on our cruise ship. We do have beautiful lithographs in color, hand signed and numbered, and an archived Old Masters’ collection with original Picassos, Rembrandts, Matisses, Renoirs, Dalis, and Chagalls of impeccable provenance, as well as post-impressionists, at our U.S. gallery. But we don’t offer those on the cruises. However, I assure you we maintain the highest professional standards to give passengers a premier collecting experience. Our stateside pieces come directly from the estates of deceased artists or are purchased from reputable international auction companies. But to bring those aboard ship? The insurance alone would be cost-prohibitive.
“Although there are some upscale passengers aboard, none of them could even hope to afford paintings such as those,” Monsieur Dumas continued. “Ah, would I love to have even one of those works in our onboard gallery? Of course. Those priceless pieces remain locked up in our vault in the States.
“Most of our collection comes directly from living artists doing contemporary paintings of landscapes, places they’ve lived or visited. But our artists are primarily unknown—of a certain quality, yes, but not the equal of any of the masters you describe. The people who come to our auction here like the look of a painting that might suit the décor in their living room or dining room. They are gambling that one day, perhaps, these unknown artists will rise to the level of a Chagall and that their investment will be worth something. And that has certainly happened with many of our artists.
“We offer watercolors, giclées in color on canvas with hand embellishments, some oils on canvas. We try to demystify art by making it accessible to the passengers on cruise ship auctions. At best, we might have a Picasso print or lithograph, but for the most part, I’m afraid the level of the art we offer does not rise to the level of art auctioned off at a Christie’s or a Sotheby’s. We try to offer passengers something they can take home, a memento of their cruise, but no, the artworks you are talking about would never be sold on this ship.”
“But I saw them,” insisted Kate when she was finally able to interrupt the flow of Monsieur Dumas’ monologue. “Not only did they look authentic, but many I recognized as stolen from various museums around Europe.”
“And you would recognize these how?” asked Monsieur Dumas, raising his eyebrows in doubt.
Jack defended his wife. “Kate majored in art history at one of the finest colleges in the country. She’s worked in a gallery. She knows about art. Her family owns a number of paintings by the artists you spoke of.”
“My dear,” said Monsieur Dumas. “Let us have a look around my humble gallery, and you can see for yourself that you’re mistaken.”
Kate spewed a stream of fluent French, and Monsieur Dumas’s face colored.
“I certainly didn’t mean to be condescending, Mrs. Hale. “It’s just that what you say happened could not have happened, not here, not in my gallery.”
“Are you calling my mother and me liars?” Kate railed. “Because we know what we saw. So if you do not carry such pieces in your gallery, then that man brought them
“Mrs. Bradley,” said Monsieur Pierre Dumas, inclining his head in greeting.
“Mrs. Hale says that she and her mother were speaking to an art auctioneer, who called himself Wade Randall, inside this gallery at around eight p.m. last evening. He showed them around, spoke to them about some artists, and said he was inventorying some paintings. The ladies got a look at those paintings, and from the description, they were of some import.”
“They were priceless pieces,” Kate interjected. “Rembrandts, Monets, a Matisse, a Vermeer, a Jan van Eyck, a Cezanne, even a van Gogh.”
Monsieur Dumas laughed heartily.
“Mrs. Hale, I think you must be mistaken. We don’t have the caliber of paintings you’re talking about anywhere in this gallery, not on our cruise ship. We do have beautiful lithographs in color, hand signed and numbered, and an archived Old Masters’ collection with original Picassos, Rembrandts, Matisses, Renoirs, Dalis, and Chagalls of impeccable provenance, as well as post-impressionists, at our U.S. gallery. But we don’t offer those on the cruises. However, I assure you we maintain the highest professional standards to give passengers a premier collecting experience. Our stateside pieces come directly from the estates of deceased artists or are purchased from reputable international auction companies. But to bring those aboard ship? The insurance alone would be cost-prohibitive.
“Although there are some upscale passengers aboard, none of them could even hope to afford paintings such as those,” Monsieur Dumas continued. “Ah, would I love to have even one of those works in our onboard gallery? Of course. Those priceless pieces remain locked up in our vault in the States.
“Most of our collection comes directly from living artists doing contemporary paintings of landscapes, places they’ve lived or visited. But our artists are primarily unknown—of a certain quality, yes, but not the equal of any of the masters you describe. The people who come to our auction here like the look of a painting that might suit the décor in their living room or dining room. They are gambling that one day, perhaps, these unknown artists will rise to the level of a Chagall and that their investment will be worth something. And that has certainly happened with many of our artists.
“We offer watercolors, giclées in color on canvas with hand embellishments, some oils on canvas. We try to demystify art by making it accessible to the passengers on cruise ship auctions. At best, we might have a Picasso print or lithograph, but for the most part, I’m afraid the level of the art we offer does not rise to the level of art auctioned off at a Christie’s or a Sotheby’s. We try to offer passengers something they can take home, a memento of their cruise, but no, the artworks you are talking about would never be sold on this ship.”
“But I saw them,” insisted Kate when she was finally able to interrupt the flow of Monsieur Dumas’ monologue. “Not only did they look authentic, but many I recognized as stolen from various museums around Europe.”
“And you would recognize these how?” asked Monsieur Dumas, raising his eyebrows in doubt.
Jack defended his wife. “Kate majored in art history at one of the finest colleges in the country. She’s worked in a gallery. She knows about art. Her family owns a number of paintings by the artists you spoke of.”
“My dear,” said Monsieur Dumas. “Let us have a look around my humble gallery, and you can see for yourself that you’re mistaken.”
Kate spewed a stream of fluent French, and Monsieur Dumas’s face colored.
“I certainly didn’t mean to be condescending, Mrs. Hale. “It’s just that what you say happened could not have happened, not here, not in my gallery.”
“Are you calling my mother and me liars?” Kate railed. “Because we know what we saw. So if you do not carry such pieces in your gallery, then that man brought them
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