I told the valet to give me a moment to grab Imogen. He pulled the car off to the side, left the passenger side door open, and stepped out. I walked inside rubbing the side of my face. Bill was strong. Apparently after all these years he was still in good shape. I guess he had been a professional athlete. Physically gifted. He should have pursued boxing. He might have done well. Maybe even better than golf.
Imogen was sitting in a high-backed chair, facing the lobby and the back windows. I walked around to her.
"Car's here," I said.
"Max, what the hell happened to your face?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"You're bleeding on your cheek and your lip," she said.
I hadn't noticed that. I reached my hand up to my mouth and felt around. I did feel something warm and thick on the side of my mouth. Blood. I looked at my hands. Confirmed. Blood.
"Oh that? It's nothing."
"Nothing?" She seemed skeptical.
"OK. I got in a little fight outside."
"Fight? What are you talking about?"
"And I hadn't even been drinking. Can you believe it?" I said, trying to make light of the situation.
"What kind of fight?"
"Well, let's just say I don't think Bill is going to be cooperating with us in the near future."
"You got in a fight with Bill?" she asked.
"I'm not sure it was really a fight. He kind of yelled at me and then punched me in the face."
Imogen was shocked and appalled.
"Bill punched you in the face?"
She was full of questions. More like repeating what I was saying out of disbelief.
"He said that he knew I had snooped around his shed. Then he punched me in the face."
"Oh my God, Max. You need to call the police. File a report. He assaulted you."
"File a report. Maybe. With Delmar. But the police, that's the last thing that we need. And by the way, speaking of the police, he knows we're not police officers. Told me right before he threw his left hook."
"I knew it. He's not dumb, Max."
"Not only is he not dumb, he's strong."
"Yes, I can see that."
"So, it looks like our plans for pumping Bill for information are out the window."
"I can talk to him," Imogen said.
"I doubt that very much. I'd say you're in the same sinking boat as I am. We're joined at the hip, my love, for better or for worse."
"You're probably right, Max. Great. Now on to Plan B."
"We don't have a Plan B."
"Exactly," she said.
"How about we start with you asking if I'm OK?"
"Let's go," she said.
She stood up, and we both walked out to the car, got in, and zipped out of Delmar Country Club.
"I cannot believe that you got in a fight at the club," she said, driving.
I was sitting in the passenger seat. Of my own car. My car. I didn't sit in the passenger seat. Ever. I drove.
"Yeah, well, it happens."
"It happens? Are you insane?" she asked. "Grown men do not fight. Especially at country clubs."
"Yeah, well, um, I guess you're—"
My phone had begun to ring throughout the car. It was connected via Bluetooth. I jumped, surprised by the sound. The ringer was way too loud. I made a note to lower the volume for future calls.
"How the hell do you answer this thing?" Imogen said. "It's bloody loud. Make it stop."
"Push the button on the steering wheel," I said.
After two more excruciating rings Imogen had finally managed to answer the call.
"Hello?" a lady's voice said. "Max?"
"Hi, yes, this is Max," I said.
Imogen looked at me wondering who was on the phone. As was I.
"It's Alese Steiner," she said.
Mystery solved.
"Oh, hi, Alese," I said.
Imogen looked at me again. She mouthed the same question that I was already thinking. What the hell was she doing calling me? We just had lunch with her.
"Thanks again for meeting me for lunch," she said.
Surely, she hadn't called me to thank me again.
"Of course. No problem. I'm glad that we had a chance to fill you in on the information."
"Listen, I was thinking on the ride home about something that I wanted to run by you. Maybe you could help," she said.
Imogen was busy shrugging her shoulders trying to figure out what Alese was going to say. I was merely sitting there rubbing my sore face.
"Sure. What were you thinking?" I asked.
"Well, Delmar is beautiful," she said. "I was really impressed at lunch."
"Thanks. Yes, it's beautiful. I'm surprised. You've never been there before?"
"No, never been. No one ever invited me, I guess. I didn't even know it was there," she said.
She had lived in Manors for a while and never knew that the country club had existed? I wasn't sure how that was even possible. Plus, she lived a few miles away from it.
"I'm glad that you got to see it," I said. "We'll have to bring you back for some tennis, golf, and dinner."
"I would love that. Thanks, Max," she said.
"Great, we'll put it on the calendar," I said.
"Speaking of Delmar," she said. "Being that it's so beautiful, it gave me an idea. I was thinking that maybe we could host the auction for the painting there. I mean, it would be perfect. Maybe in the lobby of the clubhouse. Set up a stage, chairs, it would be fantastic."
What on earth was she talking about? She wanted to host the auction for her painting, the one that was supposedly burned seventy-five years ago, at Delmar Country Club? Why? What was wrong with a normal auction house?
Imogen looked as surprised as I was.
"That's certainly an idea that I hadn't entertained," I said.
"Picture it, Max. One of the most famous paintings in the world, a lost treasure, comes to auction at Delmar. It would make Delmar national news."
That was for sure. It would put Delmar on the map. It would also draw attention to this country club full of members that preferred privacy. There were people at Delmar known by their names. People known by their faces. People who had been all over the news, television, film, radio. Public people who liked their privacy.
"I don't know, Alese. I'm not sure it's the right place," I said. "There are some—"
"Don't say that, Max. I think it's the perfect place. Just promise me you'll think about it before you say no," she said.
"OK. I'll think about it. I'll even run it by the board of the club."
I would let the board be the bad guys. That way I could let her down gently and then tell her that there was nothing that I could have done to change their decision.
"Oh thank you, Max. Thank you."
"Alese, you mind if I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Why don't you want to have the auction at an auction house? We've got a famous one right here in Manors."
"After meeting with a couple, I'm just not sure I need them. Why pay them a commission to find a buyer even if they vet the bidders ahead of time? I don't think Delmar would have any trouble finding a qualified buyer."
That made sense. It was logical. It was prudent. She was probably right. She didn't need anyone's help selling that painting, but she did need the help finding a qualified buyer. I agreed with her. I was sure that the board at Delmar could do that. Maybe even a find a member willing to bid for the painting. But I also thought there was another reason. An issue with the provenance. That I thought she was trying to avoid.
"I hear ya. Why pay someone else for something when you could do it yourself?" I said.
"Exactly, Max. Well, I have to run. But thank you for your help. And for running it by the powers that be. Talk soon."
"OK, Alese. Bye."
She never heard my salutation as she disconnected immediately after talking.
"Wow," Imogen said, disconnecting the Bluetooth speaker by hitting the button again on the steering wheel.
"I know. Right?"
"She's got some nerve," Imogen said.
"What are you so angry about?"
Imogen smiled.
"I'm not angry. I find it cheeky that she would ask to host the auction at Delmar. There's a reason Max. And it's not the one she told us."
"I couldn't agree more," I said. "Can you step on it?"
"I'm driving the speed limit, Max."
"Exactly. My face is killing me, and I want to get some ice on it."
"My poor, poor baby."
"I knew you had some sympathy for me somewhere in that English heart of yours, my love. Now, press the gas pedal down. This is a sports car after all."