Twice.
Where the hell is Vivianne?
Sold!
I'm now the proud owner of a painting and enough anthrax to take out a small city. I've been discreet in placing my bids, but I can't be sure I haven't been watched as well.
Attendants removeDr. Gachetfrom the podium and bring up the next piece. Annabelle LaCroix blanches and tugs on her date's sleeve. The two of them head to the back of the room, passing me.
I give a curt dip of my head in greeting but am ignored as she sweeps past with a determined expression. I can only imagine the tense conversation she will have with her partners.
Now, to find Vivianne. I turn toward the restrooms, but Urakov grabs my shoulder.
"A word."
"Not now." I glance at my shoulder, making a point to stare at his meaty hand.
Urakov lifts it and takes a step back. "We need to talk."
"In a moment." I lower my voice. "Have you seen Vivianne?"
"Your woman?"
"Yes."
"Haven't been paying attention."
Without a word, I head toward the exit. The guard sits on a stool next to the door. He stands as we approach. I wave him off.
"Où sont les toilettes?"
The man gestures down a dimly lit hall. "Avant-dernière porte à gauche."
I march down the hall. Urakov follows. I don't stop at the men's toilet but knock on the door of the women's facilities.
"Vivianne?" No response. I bang on the wood-slatted doors of the two privacy stalls. The place is empty.
Running a hand through my hair, I stare at the empty room. There is no other place she could be, and I can't think of one reason she would leave the boathouse during the auction.
"What's wrong?" Urakov stands in the doorway. I didn't realize the Russian followed me.
"Something's not right."
"That's for sure. We lost the painting."
I shake my head. "The painting is being crated as we speak. It'll be delivered within an hour of the auction closing."
"To whom?" Urakov pulls at his chin.
"To me."
"You bought it?"
"I did."
"That is not what we discussed."
I hush him and lower my voice. "Probably not the best place for this conversation."
