16

“Thank God you’re here, Chris. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a messier, more chaotic, confusing, and out-of-control day in my life,” Marion said. She proceeded to explain to him about Mrs. Romarel and her chauffeur, Didier Combes, and La Medici expecting a full report. Then she mentioned the warrior.

Leaning against a wall in Bruno’s office, Chris looked her up and down. “Have you gone completely insane?”

Marion was standing in front of him, stone-faced.

“Someone’s been murdered, Marion. You have to hand the sculpture over to the police.”

“No way. If I do that, I can say good-bye to my inheritance.”

“Your inheritance? What the hell are you talking about? You could be facing a prison sentence.”

“I’m just borrowing it for a week or two.”

“It’s stolen goods, Marion. You’ll be sentenced to jail time and charged with a fine so big, you’ll be paying it off for the rest of your life. But I’m wasting my breath. You already know all of this. What you may not be aware of is this: that cop—Didier Combes—is chasing after you, and he’s gaining ground fast, very fast. Just yesterday he faxed me pictures of your sculptures. Photocopies from a fancy catalog with handwritten annotations of the buyers’ names. Apparently he didn’t tell you everything.”

“What do you think he’s after?”

“An analysis of authentication.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. What do you think his motives are?”

“I’m not a psychic, Marion.”

“Do you plan to help him?”

“There’s no point in resisting. The analysis won’t tell him anything new. But it won’t be long before he uncovers even more information. You know the reputation he’s got. He’s a bloodhound. A bloodhound with a pit bull trap.”

“Let’s not get carried away, Chris. Didier and I work together. You know that. In fact, he was just here. He knows I’m Magni’s daughter, but that’s all. I’ll tell him the truth eventually, but not until I find all the sculptures. Just hear me out, please. Magni knew who bought them. Why would he keep that from me? That’s what I need to know.”

“You can’t try to justify the unjustifiable.”

“I’m convinced he wants me to crack this mystery.”

“That’s ridiculous! What the hell’s gotten into you?”

“I wish I knew! This is bigger than me.” Marion paused before continuing. “I’m not going to abandon this collection or my inheritance. Weren’t you the one who was just telling me the other day that millions of euros were worth a few sacrifices?”

“Finally. At least you’re admitting the truth. It all comes down to money. It’s changed the honest woman I knew.”

“You’re oversimplifying. It’s more than the money. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m actually living. Years ago I chose a quiet life for myself. That’s what I wanted. And I stuck with my decision until last week. After what happened at the pool, I could have given up completely. But again, you were the one who told me that people who don’t go after their dreams are cowards. And well, I don’t know exactly what dream I’m pursuing, but it’s there, and it’s powerful.”

“You’re twisting my words.”

Chris had planted himself next to a window. He was staring at the silhouette of a distant construction crane. The fog made it look iridescent.

“You’ll help me, right?” Marion threw out.

There was silence for a moment. “I’m on your side,” he finally said. “But I’m having some serious misgivings. I don’t like it that you’ve gotten us into this mess.”

“You can stop here and now if that’s what you want.”

Chris folded his arms and shot her an angry look. Marion realized that she could be losing her best friend.

“You win, Marion. I can’t let you handle this thing all by yourself. I just can’t. Call it loyalty, or pride, or stupidity. I’m in. What would you like me to do?”

“We have to find a place to stash the warrior.”

“What? You have the warrior on you? What else don’t I know, Marion? Okay—forget I asked. Just give the thing to me.”

“Where will you hide it?”

“At my mom’s place.”

“Your mother’s place? I thought we should hide it at your lab.”

“No, not a good choice. There are too many people during the day and nobody at night. Anybody could steal it. But my mom makes jewelry. Remember? She’s got all sorts of boxes. But I need to stress this, though: I’m being followed.”

Marion tensed. While worrying about her own vulnerability, she had neglected to consider Chris’s.

“Are you absolutely sure of that?”

“Sure of it? I’ve never spotted anyone, but I still feel this presence lurking behind me. I’m not dismissing it anymore or telling myself that it’s all in my imagination. Someone is following me. But why me? And wouldn’t it mean that you’re being tailed too?”

Without answering, Marion cracked open the door to Bruno’s office and checked to see if Romarel’s chauffeur was still waiting. Sure enough, he was sitting in the reception area, just behind Sophie, who looked as stiff as a board.

“So? What did you decide?” Chris fired. “Are you giving it to me?”

“I have another idea. We’ll meet tonight at your mom’s place. I’ll bring the sculpture. I’ll make sure Romarel’s chauffeur drives me.”

“Do you think you can trust this guy? And even if you can trust him, do you think he’ll make any difference if you’re being tailed?”

She shot him an unequivacal look.

“Okay. I give up. You bring it.”

He was right. The chauffeur was no insurance. But Marion intended to be the one to take the blame if anything went wrong. She didn’t want to put her friend in that position.

Chris started to leave but stopped. “Please be careful, Marion. This is serious stuff. Think it over some more. You don’t actually believe this sculpture just randomly fell into your lap, do you? Someone could have given you a little help. You got your inheritance, then two days later a guy was murdered. His sculpture got stolen, and it wound up with you. You could get nailed as an accomplice to murder!”

She just nodded. It was too late to turn back.

Once alone, Marion began skimming though the pages of an auction catalog. She didn’t want to think about it or analyze it anymore. Then, making a split-second decision, she threw on her coat, grabbed her bag, and left like a bat out of hell. When he spotted his charge darting down the hallway, Romarel’s chauffeur rose to his feet.

“Are we leaving?” he shouted as he headed toward the exit.

With a tweak or two, it could have been Sophie’s parting shot.

“So you’re leaving me by myself again!”