Blue Smoke and Murder

24

SEPTEMBER 14

2:07 P.M.

Inside the house, Zach talked on his own phone to Grace until Faroe was free. Grace’s sympathy for Zach’s position ran over like a plugged toilet. There was laughter in her voice.

“…and from what I’m overhearing on Joe’s end,” she said cheerfully, “Jill will walk if we try to tuck her away. Joe’s doing more listening than talking. Good for him. He has a baby daughter now, so he’ll have to learn to rein in his protective impulses.”

“Congratulations on the baby, and don’t hold your breath about Faroe backing off.”

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s agreeing with Jill. She goes with the paintings.”

Zach told himself he was angry.

He lied.

And he knew it.

“Let me talk to Joe,” Zach said.

“He won’t change his mind.”

“Ya think?” he said sarcastically.

Laughing, Grace exchanged phones with her husband.

“You want out?” Faroe asked Zach.

“No. You need me.”

“Bullet-catchers aren’t all that rare.”

“Ones who learned about Western art at Garland Frost’s knee are.”

Silence. Then Faroe said, “So you like the paintings.”

“A lot.”

“Enough to kill for?”

“Me personally? No. Someone else? You bet. Provenance will be a bitch, though. If St. Kilda is counting on a piece of the paintings to pay for the op, you could end up with a double handful of nothing.”

“Jill saved Lane’s life on the river. Ask for whatever you need, whenever and wherever you need it. If St. Kilda has it, it’s yours.”

Smiling, Zach started making a list.