Page 33 of Lay It Bare

“Grand place,” the woman said. “Beautiful, or so they say. But do invitations ever go out? No.” She laughed in a way that showed she was taking offense. “Reevesworth and Moreau are frightfully private. They have their reasons, I suppose.”

Sevastyan smiled pleasantly, encouraging her to go on. “Moreau is a painter, though, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but he never sells, and if he gifts his work, no one is admitting they have pieces,” the man said.

“Is he any good?” Sevastyan asked.

“Good?” The man laughed. “I’m hardly educated enough to know.”

The woman shook her head, smiling politely in a way that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s a matter of opinion, I suppose. Isn’t all art? But he has three of his pieces hanging in his offices. He’s good with capturing light, I’ll say that much.”

“What of Linda Reevesworth?” Sevastyan inquired.

“Oh, she buys art,” the woman said. “But it’s usually for something she’s designing or building. Actually, I think it’s usually her assistant who seems to choose what she buys. Elli . . . Ellish . . . the last name is Sollunae, I remember that.”

“Ellisandre Sollunae,” the man said. “Odd one. Very fashion forward. Or retro. They outbid me once.” He winced.

Sevastyan chuckled gently, because it was expected. He clinked his glass against the man’s. “Happens to the best of us.”

“Yes, well,” the man sighed. “It was a beautiful piece. Now it’s hanging in a university community center of all places.”

Sevastyan moved on. Rei fell into step beside him.

“What else do you want to see?” Sevastyan murmured.

Rei hesitated. Sevastyan sipped from his glass and raised a dangerous eyebrow. Rei would choose something or there would be consequences.

“Landscape in Light: The Tiffany Window,” Rei murmured.

Sevastyan nodded once and turned. He gestured for the closest free staff member, a department head for the Institute. “Could you show me the Tiffany Window?”

The man was pleased to do so. He spoke at length on the history of the hundred-year-old glass window as they walked the halls and into the open staircases leading to it. Sevastyan let him lecture, interjecting at appropriate intervals, knowing that Rei was collecting every bit of knowledge from the experience.

The window was beautiful. The staff member made suggestions for a few other pieces that were related. It was late by the time Sevastyan left, his phone filled with a few more names and phone numbers and a tentative promise to bring an auction to Chicago that summer.

The wind from earlier had let up and the real feel of the temperature had risen.

“Are you cold?” Sevastyan said. “The truth, please?”

“It would be nice to walk, cold or not,” Rei said. “I’m warm in this coat.”

“Keep your hands in your pockets, then. We can pick up food instead of ordering it in.”

They fell into step, side by side, the sidewalk largely deserted.

“Master?”

“Yes.”

“Permission to speak?”

“Granted.”

Rei’s shoulders were tight. Sevastyan watched out of the corner of his eye. It took a moment before Rei managed to go on. “I think we could recruit Lisa.”

“He hates them enough, but until the chip is out, it would be suicide.”

“You think he’s not already dying?” Rei said. “What if we could disable the chip?”