I was a set designer, not an actress, but I’d picked up enough from years in theaters to muster a convincing smile. “I couldn’t bring myself to let the painting out of my sight.”
I also couldn’t bring myself to part with Roux, but Gordon didn’t need to know that.
If I hadn’t spent the entire trip to Paris steeling myself for this visit, I might have recoiled when Gordon hugged me. But I kept up the act and hugged him back, no matter how my stomach churned.
Grepper hadn’t come out and accused Gordon of playing a role in my father’s death, but he did say Gordon had profited from it. If that was true — a big if — I had to know what that role was.
I took a deep breath, trying to settle my heaving emotions.
“Well, I’m delighted to see you,” Gordon said, releasing me. “And delighted that you were able to recover the painting.”
Roux nodded. “Like I said, sir. An easy in-and-out operation.”
Gordon looked around expectantly, practically rubbing his hands together.
I unslung a storage tube from my shoulders and carefully removed the painting.
“Here it is. Unharmed, thank goodness.” I unrolled it and held it up, peeking over the top edge to watch my godfather’s reaction.
He stared, confused. “Where’s the rest?”
“The rest?” I echoed, innocent as a lamb.
“Yes. The frame.”
“That’s how we found it, sir,” Roux said. “No frame. That is the correct painting, isn’t it?”
The man was a master of the poker face. Normally, so was Gordon, but his cheeks went from pink to red.
I interjected before Gordon exploded. “Of courseit’s the right painting. I know my father’s work when I see it.”
Gordon opened and closed his mouth like a fish gulping for water. “But the frame…”
I shrugged cheerfully. “We can replace the frame. But we can’t replace Dad’s painting.”
“Yes, but…” He clenched his fists, then glared at Roux. “Your orders were—”
“Our orders were to retrieve the painting, sir,” Roux interjected.
Electricity filled the air, reflecting Gordon’s ire.
“When I say,get my car,I don’t have to specify four tires and a bumper, do I?” he snarled.
Roux and I had agreed to keep mind-speak to a minimum in case Gordon picked up on it, but I was sure Roux was thinking something along the lines of,I don’t know. I’m not your fucking driver.
He didn’t deign to reply, though.
“What. Happened. To. The. Frame?” Gordon gritted out.
“Like Roux said, this is how we found it,” I said.
Gordon’s eyes bugged out. “We? You were there?” He turned to Roux, thundering, “Did I not make myself clear when I said my goddaughters were not to be part of the operation?”
Roux replied in the same flat tone. “You did, sir. But she insisted.”
I nodded cheerily. “I did.”
“And since we had a comfortable window in which to execute operations, according to the intelligence you supplied…” Roux said.
