“As you wish.”
Stone accepted a second mug of coffee, then sat down and watched Farina paint, as he had so often as a boy watched his mother. The man was astonishingly quick. Consulting a large art book on a separate easel, he held the brush and it flew around the canvas, and as Stone watched, a Monet haystack emerged. By the time Stone rose it appeared finished. “I promised Morgan I’d be back for lunch,” he said, “so I should go.”
“I’m so glad you could come over,” Farina said. “May I have your address for the Modigliani?”
They exchanged cards. “I’ll look forward to hanging it,” Stone said. “I’ll go home and start clearing a perfect place for it.”
Farina got him his coat and hat and walked him to the door. “Drop in anytime,” he said. “I enjoy performing for an audience.”
They shook hands, and Stone walked back to Morgan’s house, where interesting aromas were emanating from the kitchen.
“Sea bass for lunch,” Morgan said, kissing him. “It slept last night in the ocean.”
Stone hung up his things.
“Would you like a drink before lunch?”
“I’ll wait and have a glass of wine with the fish.”
They sat down on a sofa. “Did you enjoy seeing Angelo’s work?”
“I certainly did. I watched him paint a Monet haystack, and he gave me a Modigliani.”
“Then Angelo must like you very much indeed. I’ve only rarely known him to give anything away.”
“What sort of a painter is his son?”
“He does mostly abstracts. He and his girlfriend, Ann, share a studio. She’s a sculptor.” She looked out the window. “Something disturbing happened this morning,” she said.
“What happened?”
“I got a call from the front-desk man at my building. The police turned up with a warrant to search my apartment.”
Stone sat up. “Do you have any idea what they’re looking for?”
“I expect it’s Mark’s van Gogh, the one that was stolen.”
“Ah, I see. They think it might still be somewhere in the apartment.”
“What should I do, Stone?”
“Are you concerned about what they might find?”
“No. In fact, I’d be very pleased if the picture turned up.”
“Then leave them to it. They won’t wreck the place, and you’ll have all that out of the way.”
“I guess you’re right,” she said. “The helicopter is coming for us at four. Will you have your bags ready?”
“Of course.”
They were called to lunch, and the sea bass was delicious, as was the Cakebread Chardonnay served with it.
“I’ve really enjoyed our weekend,” Stone said. “It’s nice to get out of the city.”
“Do you have a country place?”
“Yes, but it’s in Maine.”
“How long does it take to drive up there?”
“Oh, I don’t drive. I fly myself to Rockland, then take a small plane to the island.”
“Which island?”
“Islesboro.”
“I’ve heard it’s lovely.”
“Then when the snow is gone, we’ll go up there together.”
“I’d love that.”
When Stone got home it was nearly six o’clock, and there was a package waiting for him in the front hallway. He set it on the hall table and opened it. The Reclining Nude greeted him with a little smile.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said. “How did you get here so fast?” He took it into the living room, got out the ladder, and cleared away two other paintings, then hung the nude and adjusted the ceiling spotlight to its best advantage. He put away everything, then stepped back and viewed her.
“You are gorgeous!” he said to her.
16
STONE HAD JUST SAT DOWN at his desk on Monday morning when Joan buzzed. “Art Masi on one,” she said.
Stone pressed the button. “Good morning, Art. Did you get your work done?”
“We went over the place twice with a fine-toothed comb. All we found was a frame of about the right size, which the thief must have discarded. It’s in the hall coat closet.”
“That makes sense. Morgan said he had a canvas bag slung on his back.”
“Something else we found. There’s a back door to a service stairway with a broken mechanism. It couldn’t be locked from either the inside or outside.”
“So that’s how a thief could have gotten in and out, except Morgan says she saw him go over the parapet and rappel down.”
“He’d need a hundred and fifty feet of rope. I suppose he could carry that up the stairs. It would probably weigh fifty pounds or more.”
“Less, if it was something like nylon, and it wouldn’t be more than a quarter of an inch in diameter.”
“You have a point, Stone.”
“I spent the weekend at her house in the Hamptons, and although I had a good look around, I never spotted anything like a good hiding place.”
“The deskman at the building let us have a look around the basement, which is divided into storage areas, all of them padlocked. We checked the furnace room, too, and couldn’t find anything.”
“Maybe you should get a search warrant for the East Hampton house.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Do you have any grounds for a warrant for Angelo Farina’s house?”
“I’m not sure a judge would go for it, but it’s worth a try,” Art said.
“There are so many pictures there that it will take you a day just to get through his studio.”
“I’ll get on it.” Art said goodbye and hung up.
Stone called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“Good morning, Commissioner.”
“Where were you this weekend?”
“At Morgan Tillman’s house in East Hampton, and while I was gone, your art squad got a warrant and searched her apartment for the van Gogh. Twice. He also searched the basement and the furnace room.”
“And what did he find?”
“Zip.”
“Well, she’s had plenty of time to hide it by now.”
“He did find a frame, which a burglar could have discarded.”
“I’ll tell Art to search her East Hampton house.”
“He’s already on it, and Angelo Farina’s house and studio, too, but I’m beginning to get the feeling that we aren’t going to find it there, either.”
“Well, shit.”
“Yeah. Oh, one thing Art did find was a broken lock on a back door leading to a service stairway, a perfect entry for a burglar—the door couldn’t be locked from either side.”
“My nose still tells me,” Dino said.
“Maybe you’d better stop listening to your nose.”
“You like Mrs. Tillman, don’t you.” It was an accusation.
“Yes, I do. You’d like her, too, if you spent a little time in her company. Why don’t we all have dinner this week, and you can find out what Viv’s nose tells her?”
“Her nose will agree with mine.”
“We’ll see. Tomorrow at seven-thirty at Patroon?”
“All right.”
“Tell Viv to bring her nose.” Stone hung up and called Morgan.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“I certainly did. When I got home, Angelo’s gift was waiting for me. It looks wonderful in my living room.”
“Write him a note, he’ll love that. Angelo’s a stickler for the courtesies.”
“I have already done so,” Stone lied, taking a sheet of paper from his desk drawer. “How about dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Bacchetti tomorrow evening?”
“Love to.”
“I’ll pick you up a little after seven.”
“Wonderful. See you then.”
Stone composed a genuinely grateful thank-you note to Angelo Farina. It looks wonderful in my house. Give me a call the next time you’re coming to town, and come for a drink. I’ll show you some of my mother’s work, too. He signed it and gave it to Joan to mail.
? ? ?
MORGAN AND VIV GOT ON as if they were old school friends, somewhat to Dino’s annoyance. When the women went to the ladies’, Stone said, “Well?”
“All right, Viv likes her,” Dino admitted.
“Could she like a murderer and art thief?”
“She could, if she didn’t know.”
“Surely she knows your theory.”
“Well, yeah.”
“And?”
“And I don’t think she buys it. You been talking to Viv?”
“Haven’t seen her since the last time.”
The two women came back from the restroom, and Morgan stopped at another table to visit with some people for a moment.