Page 135 of Brushed By Moonlight

She flashed a tiny smile and wrapped both her hands around mine.

“Anyway, enjoy the painting while you can,” Bene mumbled to Mina while chewing away. “We’ll have to hand it over to Gordon soon.”

She glanced toward the cottage, murmuring, “Maybe not.”

Uh-oh. Now what?

Roux shot her a long-suffering look. “I know it’s important to you, but…”

She walked off. “I’ll be right back.”

The moment she was out of sight, Roux groaned. “God, she kills me.”

Ha. I could say the same thing, but in a good way.

Bene laughed. “She’s tough, smart, and unpredictable. What’s not to love?” He shoved another forkful of food intohis mouth. “Plus, life has been way more entertaining with her around. I think we should add her to the team permanently.”

“No way,” Roux, Henrik, and I all barked at the same time.

At least we agreed on thewhat, if not thewhy.

Bene shushed us. “Careful. Here she comes.”

Roux groaned. “You sound like you’re in fourth grade with a substitute teacher around.”

“Fifth grade,” I growled. When were they going to get that straight?

“Catch,” Mina said, tossing Henrik the small wooden box she’d retrieved from the fire.

He snatched it out of the air and held it like a precious artifact.

“And remember our deal,” Mina barked, looking at him sternly.

Deal? I didn’t like the sound of that.

Henrik slipped the box under his jacket, muttering, “I’ll remember.”

“What’s—” Bene started.

Mina shook her head. “Don’t ask.”

Then she held up two paintings — the blurry Van Gogh and whatever the other one was — and propped both on a windowsill.

“Van Gogh’sThe Painter on the Road to Tarascon. The real thing, I’m pretty sure.” Then she pointed to the other painting, a wintery landscape. “Monet’sThaw. Not the real thing, but a good copy.”

Everyone waited. And waited…

“And your point is…?” Roux finally said.

Mina flashed thatthey kill me with their idiocyexpression she did so well.

“Gordon and his client will know that most of Dobrov’s artworks were lost in the fire,” she said. “But they won’t knowwhichart was lost.”

Roux frowned. “What are you getting at?”

She pointed at the Van Gogh, then the Monet. “Tell him you did your best, but due to an unfortunate fire that you had absolutely nothing to do with—” she shot me a stern look “—the Van Gogh was lost. But the Monet could be saved, thanks to your bravery — and his and his.” She pointed to Bene and me.

“And mine,” Henrik muttered.