Page 80 of Smoke Screen
“Yikes.”
Phin snorted. “Sometimes, you’re so damned funny, Maddy.”
And, ooh, didn’t that make her female radar ping. Phin Blackwell, super-stud, thought she wasfunny. Not pretty, not sexy, notattractive.
Funny? Really?
She’d show him funny.
Right after she got him naked.
“I’m going to assume,” she said, “he didn’t call the police because he couldn’t verify its provenance.”
In the legitimate art world, provenance was everything. Reputable museums, collectors and galleries wouldn’t touch a piece without knowing who owned it and when. The risk of losing an investment when the FBI knocked on the door looking for a stolen painting was too great.
“I don’t know,” Phin said. “Rory’s client had a receipt showing he’d purchased it from someone on the west coast and had a written agreement with the gallery outlining the terms of the loan. When it came time to give it back, the gallery suddenly couldn’t find it. Rory asked if we could help. Zeke looked over the paperwork, did some research, and we determined the guy was telling the truth. The gallery had a reputation for being shady like that. We got the painting back.”
“How? Or can’t you tell me?”
He shrugged. “We took it.”
Maddy let out a long, highly unattractive snort. “Oh, right. You just walked into the gallery andtookit? Why weren’t you arrested?”
He glanced over at her again, then immediately brought his attention back to the road. “For returning a painting to its owner? Who’s gonna call the cops?” Phin shook his head. “No one is openingthatdoor. Imagine all the other stolen stuff the gallery owner had borrowed and refused to give back.”
This might be her problem. Too honest. Too willing to hope humans would do the right thing.
Maybe shewasnaïve. In this case, she’d accept it.
She rolled one hand. “So, BARS is a modern-day Robin Hood.”
“Oh, hell no. We don’t steal from the rich to give to the poor. BARS is paid to do a job and we do it. We’re careful, though. If there’s a question about ownership, we don’t take the job. In Rory’s case, his client had the receipt and the gallery agreement. It belonged to him.”
“Makes sense.”
“Sure does. You haven’t answered my question.”
“Which question?”
“About the Thompsons. How likely are they to make a deal?”
Oh. That. Yeesh. Talk about going down a rabbit hole. Or maybe she’d wanted to forget Phin had even asked her. Somehow, she didn’t want to view the Thompsons, who’d fought for human rights and nonviolence, as people who’d make black market deals.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “What specifically are we talking about? President Thompson is getting tremendous pressure from his brother. Their father is in his eighties and losing these pieces has devastated him. And then there’s Mrs. Thompson’s grandmother.”
“The Queen of England.”
“Crazy, right? I can’t wrap my mind around the idea that they’d be willing to sacrifice one of her pieces. How wouldthatimpact family relations? Never mind the US-England relationship. She allowed us to showcase those pieces, and we lost them.”
“Not a good look.”
No kidding there. He may have been the one in office, but his wife had helped get him there. Everything was about the look.
Maddy blew out a breath. “I don’t know. If they’re desperate enough, maybe. Obviously, I’m out of the loop. Considering they think I’m the mastermind behind this heist.”
“It’s nonsense. Don’t worry about it.” He held up his free hand. “I know it’s easy for me to say, but the feds are reaching. They need it to look like they’re on to something. Unfortunately, you’re the sacrificial lamb. They’re looking at all the employees just like we are. If they add enough pressure, they’re hoping someone involved will cave.”
Well, it sure as hell wouldn’t be her because she wasn’t involved. Even being targeted in the matter was insulting. At some point, she’d have to deal with the fallout of obsessively giving three years of her life to a job only to be accused of stealing.
