Page 103 of Sticky Fingers

“Seems like it.” I nod, a wide smile spreading over my lips. “The Picasso has been here right from the start. Right under everyone’s noses.”

Right in front of Strong and me, the original Picasso hangs on the wall.

Sonia’s a fucking genius.

I can barely believe it, but it seems like Sonia was bold enough to return it practically after it was stolen. She merely applied a layer of watercolor over the original painting, something that could wash off easily, and then returned it after the theft.

She hid it in plain sight.

Fuck me, Sonia was right—she didn’t care about the money.

It was all about the thrill of it.

“Your painting, Detective,” I tell Strong with a smirk. “Right where it belongs.”

Strong’s about to reply, but his words vanish as the generators finally kick in, and the whole gallery is flooded by the bright overhead lights. The sprinklers finally stop, their furious hissing slowly fading away, and all that’s left are the confused voices of the crowd.

“It’s impossible!”

“Is that the Picasso?”

“But how?”

“Who did this?”

Everyone seems to have something to say and, even though the painting has finally been returned, I don’t think they’ll let me go without an explanation.

Time to think fast.

“And here you go,” I start, raising my voice as I wave at the painting. “The Picasso is right where it belongs. I found it going on auction in an underground circle, and I managed to secure it. And now it has been returned.”

“That’s bullshit,” Strong whispers into my ear, narrowing his eyes as he looks at the painting. “I saw what happened. The painting has been here all long, which means that your girlfriend was—”

“Fiancée,” I say with a smile.

“What?”

“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my fiancée,” I continue, smiling as I stare Strong down. “And, since the painting has been returned…case closed.”

“Not so fast. Daphne Abbot might still press charges,” Strong growls, waving at Daphne to walk over to us.

She’s grinning—that’s exactly what she does—and walking arm in arm with Dominic.

“Seems like the real thing,” Daphne says, her nose so close to the painting she can almost touch it.

“Still, the thief remains at large,” Strong replies, turning towards Daphne and Dominic. “And now we know exactly who was behind this.”

“Well, I don’t care about it.” Daphne shrugs, and it feels as if a five-ton Jumbo jet has been removed from my shoulders.

As Dominic places one arm Daphne’s shoulders, he winks at me.

“And I don’t care about pressing charges,” she continues, almost as if she had heard the conversation I was having with the detective. “All I care about is that the painting has been returned. As far as I’m concerned, this whole story is over.”

“And there you have it, Detective.” I grin once more, already turning around and preparing to leave.

A confused crowd starts gathering around me, but I couldn’t care less about any of these rich assholes. Let Strong explain to them what just happened.

They probably won’t believe my story, which means some of these bastards are going to be pissed at Sonia…but, truth be told, I really couldn’t care less. There’s nothing a long trip across Europe won’t solve.