Decker was just hanging up the phone when Lorraine arrived at the office, and seemed very upbeat. ‘I just got an address from the welfare department for the kid who worked for Kendall Nathan,’ he said. ‘The one on Feinstein’s payroll was out of date.’
‘Well, check him out,’ Lorraine said. ‘Feinstein’s art guy said all the paintings at the house are fakes.’
‘I’ll get over to his home right now.’
‘Ask him if he ever met Sonja Nathan,’ Lorraine added. ‘Did you fix me up a flight to New York?’
‘I’ll get on to it as soon as I get back,’ he said.
Almost as soon as Decker had closed the door the phone rang and she picked it up: ‘Page Investigations.’
‘Hi! It’s me.’ It was Jake. She pushed away her notes and leaned back in her chair.
‘I was wondering if you’d like dinner at my place tonight.’
‘Yes.’ She laughed, and said she knew she was supposed to play hard to get, but...
‘Pick you up from your office at about six thirty?’ he suggested.
‘Yep. Oh, just one thing — the Cindy Nathan autopsy. Did it come in?’
Jake told her the results. Then Lorraine said, ‘I don’t think the note was genuine. Or, at least, she didn’t write it that day.’
‘Well, it’s possible she wrote it on a piece of paper she cut in two herself, for some reason,’ Burton replied. ‘I’m not going to push an investigation unless another suspect emerges besides Kendall Nathan.’
Lorraine said nothing, having decided not to mention her suspicions that either Raymond Vallance or Sonja Nathan might have some connection to Cindy’s death until after she had seen Sonja.
Burton went on, ‘The forensic team are still sifting through the debris of the gallery workroom, but they seem to think Kendall died accidentally, possibly while trying to start a fire. Wouldn’t surprise me if she was trying to burn the place down for the insurance — the business was in debt, and she couldn’t afford to renew the lease.’
‘Anyone else involved?’ Lorraine asked, and Burton said that, according to the witness, Kendall had been alone.
‘When did you know about her death?’ she asked.
He had been told the previous day. Lorraine wanted to ask him why he hadn’t mentioned it, but she didn’t because she wanted to avoid any awkwardness between them. At the same time she thought perhaps he should have told her, and, as if reading her mind, he said, ‘I was going to tell you about it last night, but... I got a little sidetracked, if you remember.’ He laughed, in a low, intimate fashion, then had to cut short the call as there was another waiting. He reminded her that he would pick her up later, then hung up.
The light on the answerphone was blinking. Feinstein wanted Lorraine to come over to his office at her earliest convenience.
Lorraine sighed. Now that the attorney was paying her, she had no choice but to do as he asked, and by just before four she was in his reception in Century City.
Dulane had informed Feinstein that further fake copies of his paintings had been found at Harry Nathan’s house, and Feinstein demanded to know what the hell was going on.
Well,’ Lorraine said, ‘it looks like Nathan did to Kendall what she did to you and swapped the paintings again.’
‘Jesus,’ Feinstein swore. ‘Crooked fucking bastard. Where the fuck are the paintings now?’ He glared at Lorraine as though she must know the answer.
‘It looks to me like they’ve either been sold on to other buyers, probably outside the US, or he had another partner who’s got them stashed somewhere,’ she said.
‘Find them,’ Feinstein said, rubbing his eye sockets wearily. ‘Just fucking find them.’
‘Right now my assistant is checking out the man who worked for Kendall Nathan,’ Lorraine said smoothly, ‘and when I have his report, I will give you a further update. We’re still checking out auction-houses, galleries and other possible outlets for the paintings.’ Feinstein pursed his lips. ‘You know, Mr Feinstein,’ Lorraine went on, ‘you could report this to the police. You have been used in a serious fraud.’
‘No,’ he snapped.
‘May I ask why not?’
Feinstein pinched the bridge of his nose, then leaned back in his chair. ‘One, I do not wish to appear like a total asshole and, believe me, if the media get a hold of this, you think anyone is going to want me to represent them? The schmuck that didn’t even know when he was being ripped off? I have my reputation to think of and...’ he spread his hands on his desk ‘...like I said, sometimes clients, like Nathan, do certain deals in cash...’
‘Did you benefit from cash payments, Mr Feinstein?’ Lorraine enquired.
Feinstein half sighed, half hissed his reply. ‘Not cash, exactly. I thought I made that clear.’
‘Not quite. If you weren’t paid in cash, how were you paid?’
Feinstein steepled the fingers of his sweaty hands. ‘An early de Kooning like the one I bought costs maybe a few thousand dollars more than I paid. It was a good deal — one for the future if you understand me, not to be sold on until a few years had gone by. It wasn’t hot, just an exceptional deal — in lieu of fees, you understand.’
‘I see,’ Lorraine said, loathing the man, who continued to play with his fingers.
‘So this stays a private investigation. You find who stitched me up, then I’ll deal with it my way. That’s what you’re hired to do so no more talk about reporting the fakes to the cops. Is that clear?’
‘Absolutely, if that’s what you want.’
He stood up, and began to move round his desk.
‘Did you also handle Sonja Nathan’s business?’ Lorraine asked.
Feinstein turned. ‘No, I didn’t. I was introduced to Nathan by Raymond Vallance, the movie star. Most of my clients are in the industry, which is another reason why I need confidentiality.’
Lorraine headed for the door, then turned back to him. ‘Do you know if Sonja Nathan and her husband were still in contact after they divorced?’
Feinstein blinked hard. ‘One of my partners handled the settlement. I met her during the meetings — they both had to be here.’
‘And Sonja Nathan is now the main beneficiary of the estate, correct?’
Feinstein nodded. ‘Yes — considering the other two wives conveniently dropped dead.’
‘Now that we know the art at the house isn’t genuine, what sort of sum would Harry Nathan’s heir be expecting to receive?’
Feinstein stuffed his hands into his pockets. ‘I don’t know. The house is worth about three million, the corporate stock not a lot in the present climate, and the gallery nothing — Harry and Kendall didn’t own the freehold on the site.’
‘And if his secret bank accounts are traced, would whatever money is in them also belong to Sonja Nathan?’
‘I will certainly be instituting a claim to trace the value of my property into those funds,’ Feinstein said, with emphasis, ‘but I can’t say what anyone else ripped off by Harry Nathan will be doing. Basically if nobody else claims it, it’s hers.’
It was five thirty by the time Lorraine got back to the office. She had expected Decker to be there, but he hadn’t even called. She cleared up some correspondence, tidied the office, took the garbage down to the incinerator, and had almost got everything in order when the doorman called to say someone was in reception to see her.
It was Jake — wearing a casual sweater, old cord trousers and sneakers. ‘Hi. Maybe thought we’d do the walk before we went to my place — you all set?’
Tiger hurled himself at his friend, tail like a windmill, then pranced around barking.
Lorraine made a last-minute check before they left. Her car stayed in the garage, as Burton had the roof down on his rather beaten-up Suzuki jeep. ‘This is for going to the beach,’ he said, excusing the state of the jeep, but Lorraine liked it, and so did Tiger. He had jumped in and sat on the back seat before Burton had the door half open. Lorraine patted his head, remembering Tiger’s previous owner — as perhaps the big dog was too. All that seemed a long, long time ago, and she thought about her old partners, Rose and Rooney, wondering how they were, and when they would be returning from their honeymoon.