Page 71

CHAPTER 32

I DROPPED MACK and Tia back at Albany House to set up Tia’s school projects. In his typical efficient manner, Bradley had organised the necessary equipment while we were at the gym. Then I carried on to the office, where my diary was full with meetings until late afternoon. The cloudy sky matched my mood as I headed in for a fun-filled day of paperwork.

When Black was alive, he’d taken on his share of the admin, but at the moment, I had to carry part of the extra load until we trained someone to help. Probably several people, as no one person would be able to do everything he had. More than anything, I wished I could avoid meetings altogether because they bored the stuffing out of me. At least I had “proper” work to do this evening.

But before I headed out again, I stopped off at home to find Tia had been busy.

“How’s the project going?”

“Really well. I’ve done most of the experiments; I just need to write it up. Mack’s awesome.”

“She’s pretty good at all that stuff, huh?”

“Yep, and she makes it fun. We’re going to JJ’s again tomorrow morning. Can you come with us?”

“I have to start work early, I’m afraid.”

“Oh.” Tia’s face fell, but only for a moment. Then she smiled again. “I found the pool. And the cinema in the basement. We’re gonna watch a film.”

“Have some popcorn for me.”

Tonight’s job was simple. All I had to do was break into a house belonging to a trio of suspected terrorists and see if there was any evidence that might confirm my client’s suspicions. I did a quick recce of the three-bed detached and studied the photos and movement logs while I waited for the surveillance team on duty to confirm the suspects had gone out.

Once satisfied the property was empty, I slipped inside and spent an hour or so going through the contents, coming to the conclusion that there was nothing to worry about. The suspects just had really bad taste in YouTube videos. At least the organisation that contracted us to do the job could now concentrate their efforts in other areas.

The next morning, Mack and Tia arrived back from the gym before I got up. When I shuffled downstairs with every atom in me crying out for caffeine, I found the kitchen island resembled a chemistry lab and the place stank. The pair of them stood there in goggles, watching something bubble away in a conical flask.

I wrinkled my nose at the acrid smell. “Dare I ask?”

“We’re finding out the concentration of ethanoic acid in white wine vinegar,” Tia explained.

“Is it supposed to stink like that?”

“I think so.”

“In that case, I’ll leave you to it and get breakfast at the office.”

On my return, the dining room resembled an art shop. The table was stacked high with pads of paper, canvases, pens, pencils, paints, and brushes. As I wondered whether Tia planned to do her own coursework or perhaps the entire country’s, Bradley bustled in with yet more bags.

“Got enough stuff?”

“Perhaps I did get a bit carried away,” he admitted.

Tia came in behind him and stared at the mountain of supplies. “I only asked for some acrylics and a couple of canvases. Plus a box of pastels and a pad. I don’t need all that.” She waved her arm at the stacks on the table.

“Don’t worry about it. I asked Bradley to buy me a dress once, and he came back with nine different ones and the designer herself in tow.”

“Hey, she offered!”

“I know. I’m just trying to demonstrate your lack of restraint to Tia.”

“Oh.” He turned to Tia. “Restraint. She’s right. I have none.”

“I take it you’re going to be painting something next, then?” I asked.

Tia pointed at what looked like half a greengrocer’s, stacked in boxes on the sideboard.

“The teacher wants us to do a twist on the traditional still life bowl of fruit. We have to copy a modern artist’s style.”

“Sounds fun. Which artist have you picked?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“How about Damien Hirst?” Mack asked, wandering in. She picked up an apple and started munching. “If you pickled the fruit, we could spend the rest of the time shopping.”

Tia looked at me, questioning. I glared at Mack.

“No pickling. You have to do it properly. I’m sure your art teacher doesn’t want you lugging a tankful of formaldehyde into the classroom.”

“I need inspiration. Can I use the internet? And a printer?”

“Sure.”

“Or do you think I could go to a gallery? If I arranged my hair over my face, it would cover most of the bruising.”

“I’m sure we can sort something out. Or there’s a few modern paintings upstairs if that’s any use?”

“What paintings? I need somebody well-known.”

Good question. What did we have here? Black had looked after the art, and most of our collection was either loaned out to museums or back in the States. The gallery on the ground floor at Riverley Hall housed the modern pieces, and the expensive stuff lived in a smaller room on the second floor. His father and grandfather, who needed something to spend their wads of spare cash on, had both been keen art collectors. Black not so much. He bought the occasional painting, but only because he liked them, not because he had any particular aspirations of them skyrocketing in value.

“There’s a Picasso, something by Dali, and a couple of David Hockneys. Oh, and one by MC Escher we bought years ago, but that would be difficult to copy.” The Escher lithograph was one of my favourites. “The rest of the stuff is by lesser-known artists.”

“Cool, can I have a look? It sounds odd hearing you say ‘we.’”

“It makes me feel odd that there isn’t a ‘we’ any longer.”

She stepped over and gave me a hug. “I’m really sorry he’s not here.”

“Not half as much as I am.”

I led her up to the study I’d shared with Black. The security for that room had been upgraded to accommodate the expensive paintings, and I flipped back the light switch next to the door to stare into the retina scanner. While Bradley bought entire shopping malls, Mack installed electronic gadgetry.

“That’s wicked! I’ve never seen one of those in real life,” Tia squealed.

How lucky for her that she’d never needed to.

I’d barely ventured into the study since Black’s death. Of all the rooms in the house, it was the one that reminded me of him most. I picked up his Montblanc pen from his desk and twirled it around my fingers before carefully putting it back, a wave of sadness rippling through me. It was also the only room that held any photos of us. Neither of us had been big on personal mementos, but we’d made an exception in there.

Tia stood in front of the wall behind my desk, leaning forward to look at the largest picture of Black and me. We’d been about to go climbing, at Red Rock Canyon in Nevada if I remembered correctly. My grin stretched from ear to ear, and while Black had his customary mask on, he’d taken off his shirt and looked particularly hot. Just seeing us made my breath hitch.

“Was that him?” Tia asked.

“Yes.”

She gazed over the other photos—some of us alone, some with our little gang. There were pictures of us on his yacht, at home, all of us together skiing, and a few of a memorable holiday at his villa in the Caribbean.

“He was really handsome,” she said.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

Tia must have sensed I didn’t want to talk about Black, because she moved over to the wall of paintings, arranged so we both got a good view from our desks.

She peered at one portrait. “Who did this? It’s really good. I know Picasso did the original, but this is a copy, right?”

“No, that’s the original.”

Black’s father had bought it from Christie’s a couple of decades ago, apparently blaming the purchase on one too many glasses of sherry at lunch when his wife got upset. I could understand her reservations. Black always said I was a heathen, but I did prefer a face with a nose in the right place.

Tia was gaping open-mouthed at the gaudy painting. “Seriously? This is a genuine Picasso? And are those actual David Hockneys?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“Oh my gosh! They must be worth millions!”

“So the insurance company tells me.” By making a conscious effort, I managed to use “me” instead of “us” this time.

It didn’t take long for Tia to decide. “I love the Picasso, but I’m not sure how I could translate that to fruit.”

“A pineapple with the green bit sticking out from the side?”

She shook her head. “Nah, I’ll go with Hockney. I can do blue apples and pink bananas.”

She stepped closer to the paintings again, enthralled. Happy that she was happy, I got Mack to update the security system so Tia could get into the study and left her to get on with it.