Page 30 of Bitter Lies

Beautiful.

“Aiden, you came?”

“Not yet, but hopefully soon.” The words are out before I can stop them. “This is your grandmother?”

“Yes.” With a delicate motion, she offers a flute of champagne to the older woman, whose eyes study us carefully. “Grandmother, this is Aiden Bishop. Aiden, this is my grandmother Alma Lopez.”

So, this is Rico’s wife. The woman Trent threatened to expose. She doesn’t strike me as a woman with secrets worth that type of leverage.

My research today didn’t make it to Isabel. Not enough time. I was too focused on Rico and Trent. Their history went back long before Isabel.

“We’ve been studying art.” I glance over my shoulder at the piece we were just discussing. “It’s lacking. Not an accurate representation at all. The artist has clearly never experienced a good poke. Either that or they fancy the fanny more. What do you think?”

Isabel steps up next to her grandmother, sipping her champagne while her eyes roam over the sculpture. “I don’t know. Let’s ask the artist and see what she has to say. Grandmother?”

Patting my hand, the older woman sighs. “He’s not wrong. Maybe if I’d had a better model to sculpt from, I’d have produced something worth looking at.”

I drag a hand down my face and lean in to read the nameplate.

Death of the Cock by A. J. Lopez.

The price tag hanging on the wall behind it has me laughing. Five thousand pounds. The sticker confirms it’s been sold.

“Are all these yours?” I motion around the room.

“Only these five pieces.” Alma waves an arm at the ones with the nameplate A. J. Lopez. “My pieces have only recently become available for sale. It’s a hobby of mine. I never expected anyone would buy them.”

I gesture at the five pieces, all marked as sold. “Well, someone has. Congratulations.”

Alma nods and winks at her granddaughter. “If you bought these, I’ll know.”

Lifting her hands high in the air, Isabel giggles. “I have no reason to buy these, Grams. Where would I even display them?”

“Hmm.” Alma releases my arm. “I need to powder my nose. Why don’t you take Aiden to the second floor? I’ll have your lovely security man help me find you when I’m done.”

She waves to a man standing by the doorway, his attention fixed on us. His face is familiar. He was at the club last night. Not the same incompetent prick who let me drag Isabel into the hidden hallway.

Her grandmother says something as she passes, and he follows without a second thought.

A slow tension builds in my chest as I watch him leave.

He just left his charge alone with me. A man he damn well knows has ties to the Doyles. That doesn’t sit right. It’s a mistake. Sloppy.

Are all her guards incompetent motherfuckers?

Once Alma is out of hearing range, Isabel turns her back and admits. “You understand she’s not actually A. J. Lopez, right? She gets confused. It’s easier sometimes to indulge her than upset her.”

I study the five pieces again. “It’s harmless allowing her to believe she’s living her dream. Is she even an artist?”

“Hell if I know.” Isabel laughs, but there’s no joy behind it. “She loves art. I think maybe in a different life she might’ve enjoyed at least trying to become a moderately famous artist. But Grandfather absolutely refused to hear of it. He believed her time and talents were useful elsewhere. Being an artist was a waste. Art itself is often overpriced and a result of thoughtless spending. All his words. The only reason he allows her the exquisite collection she has is because it’s an investment, one that increases in value the older each piece gets.”

I think about the older man I met the other day, Rico Lopez. When he was showing Trent the gallery, he came across as cold and uninterested. Trent’s attempt to appreciate the artwork’s beauty was met with clear indifference from Rico. His only goal was to sell it at the right price.

Once home, I researched the painting. The price they originally settled on was significantly lower than what it was worth. Probably why Rico’s interest sparked when offered double that amount, putting it just above its current estimated value.

Yet, in the end, he backed out of the deal.

Why was that?