Marc was nonplused. That was the last thing he expected. Big brother showing an interest in something other than art. Someone, other than art.
“You mean that young woman, uh, the quiet one?” He stared blankly into the open refrigerator.
David laughed indulgently and carefully pushed himself up off the sofa. “She took me for walks up and down the halls, along with that wretched guard you placed on me. She said I must get back on my feet as soon as possible. I was needed and missed. I’m in much better shape because of her. She wanted to be there today when you picked me up, but I told her we needed some time together.”
Some time together? Us? That phrase has never passed the man’s lips. Curiouser and curiouser. Maybe…maybe the world is a-changin’.
“She’s certainly not the beauty your Miss Emerson is, but she has great charm in her own way. A lovely simplicity. An inner confidence and peace that is most attractive. Though quite a scholar and most definite about her opinions. She would be a challenge.” Marc saw a quiet intensity he had never seen on his brother’s face before.
“David, she’s very young.”
“An old soul. And I am very flattered. I am hopeful enough to believe I could add to her life.” He leaned back against the kitchen counter and contemplated the top of the cabinets. “For as long as her interest might last.” His voice became almost inaudible. “I would consider it an… honor.”
Marc could hardly believe his ears.
“David, that’s great. I don’t… I… That’s great.”
His brother smiled benignly. “She wrote her thesis on my downfall. Her speculations were that my reasoning was impeccable. No other scholar or authenticator could have made a more astute judgment. On the basis of those arguments, I could have been just as right as I was wrong. Authentication is a fine, and finite, art.” He beamed. Marc could see the pleasure in his eyes, remembering her intensity.
Nothing like having a girl friend who believes in you.
He had faked his way into Amanda’s good graces on their first night together, had put off taking her into his confidence, and had treated her like she should be grateful that a guy like him would deign to fall for her. At the moment, he couldn’t think of anything else to kick himself for.
But he had eventually told her what was going on, had stuck his neck out to believe she wasn’t the forger, and had given her space to make her own decisions and decide what to do. Crazy as some of her actions were, they were good ones. She’d make a top P.I. He had joked about having her in his one-man firm.
And that’s what it’s going to stay: a one-man firm.
Somehow or other, eats appeared on the table, his tea was brewing, David wanted wine.
“So you see, I was somewhat preoccupied when you began to discuss your relationship with Miss Emerson…Amanda. I’m afraid I’m so new at this sort of thing I can’t be much help. But, Marc,” his older brother’s eyes grew misty. “wouldn’t it be a wonderful thing if someone did care for me? I believe I could reciprocate.”
He sipped his wine quickly to fortify himself. The concept was a new, exciting and terrifying one. “I would try very hard.”
David unsure about his ability to enhance someone’s life? Not just expounding on how he could instruct, tell them how to think, correct their bad judgment?
“David, you know you’ve been considered the prime suspect in this case.”
Marc was instantly ashamed. Did he want to slap his brother in the face? The brother, who, for the first time in his unfeeling life, might be feeling?
Surely not jealousy, little bud. Surely not getting back at dear old Dad through the guy who always made your life miserable. Yeah, well, if he made your life such hell why did you take this case? Why did you go through all this “Antonio” hassle to help redeem him? Why are you angry now?
‘Cause he’s got a girlfriend and you ain’t.
David walked carefully back into the living room and eased himself into his favorite lounge chair. His head nodded thoughtfully. Marc had expected anger. Hurt.
“I suppose I could take that as a compliment. Have you seen the drawings? I know you don’t know much about art, but…”
“Yes. They’re great. Even I… they’re really beautiful. I was very proud to think that you might have done them.”
“Thank you, Marc. That’s most kind. I would like very much to see them myself.” He took a long swallow. “So you’ve known all along that I was suspect.”
“Cambiare hired me because they thought I would have the most to lose and you the most to gain. Assuming there were any brotherly feelings left between us.” He poured a shot of bourbon into his tea, dumped something salty and crunchy into a bowl and sprawled onto the sofa. “I didn’t tell you because I wanted to see if you’d hang yourself somewhere along the line first.”
“And what did you discover that convinces you I’m innocent.”
“Innocent, you’re not, but a forger you’re not either. Too much integrity. I wasn’t sure how much had been knocked out of you.”
“My reputation isn’t as important to me as it once was. Alma has made me very aware of that.”
“Alma?”
He seemed to test each word carefully, as if to see if it would remain in the air. “My young lady. Simply knowing that someone with integrity and training is concerned for me. It was a great revelation.”
“I always believed in you.”
“You’ve just said you weren’t sure. There’s a difference.”
Something deep in Marc’s psyche began to put pieces together. Bits of truths that he had been accumulating but that had remained separate, like defragmenting his computer. It was beginning to come clear. A movie special effect with swirling mists and clouds that at a climatic moment came together into something solid, something he could put his hands on. And deal with. Soon it would snap into focus and he would know.
“Do you think there’s any way I might see the drawings?”
“They’re in London. We could fly over. I could check. We could check. Cambiare believes in you, David.”
“I’ll call tomorrow. While you’re having your special posing session without the imperious instructor clucking over his students.”
“I think if the imperious instructor had clucked more, your best pupils might not be deserting you to try and find something special on their own.”
He nodded. “Do you think there’s any hope for my redemption, my younger and wiser sibling?”
“You’ve got someone by your side who trusts you. Go for it.”Go for it.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you, either, Marc, I’m afraid. You should know before you go into the session tomorrow. I’m almost certain I know who the forger is.”
“CISSY, CHRISTINE, look down the rise, across the pond. Do you see that large man sitting on the bench reading a paper?”
Christine started to wave. “Hey, it’s Mr. Wilde.”
“No, it’s the guy who broke into our apartment and tore up my files and probably the one who rifled my office, attacked Marc, and most certainly is the one who followed me down to Pinks.”
Christine snatched her raised hand back as if burnt. She turned sharply toward Amanda. “You know about Pinks? Damn. And you’ve had a break-in, too? I thought it was just my nosey cleaning lady.”
Cissy’s wide eyes narrowed. She quickly drew her hand away from her slack jaw where it had been suppressing a cry, and began to rummage in the Prada shopping bag that had held their lunch.
“I was so hoping we wouldn’t need these. But New York is New York. It’s always best to be prepared.” She handed out metal silver-colored tubes with rings.
“What the hell are these?”