He lifted his hands and shrugged as if to say,Hey, it’s what I do.“When you’re ready to make more money, I’ll take a trip to the island and see what you’ve been creating in that quirky little studio of yours.”
“You’ll be the first person I call,” she said, but it sounded more like:I want to rip your throat out.
What in the world was going on between them? I glanced at Daniel, and he slid me a questioning look.
After a tense silence, Sharkovsky said, “So, you said these kids had something for me to translate.”
I rummaged through my purse and pulled out the copy of the spreadsheet I’d made at work. After Daniel’s anxious response when I proposed coming here, I decided it was best to clip out the actual spreadsheet part and only show him the header. After all, it was mostly just a list of names and dates, and we could figure that out ourselves; we needed him to tell us the name of the company.
“This is it,” I said, handing the piece of paper to the man. “We were hoping you could tell us what this all means.”
He picked up a pair of reading glasses that were sitting atop a book he was reading and put them on before inspecting the paper. “It has the name and address of a company in Odessa.”
“Texas?” Aunt Mona said.
“The Ukraine,” he replied, sliding her a critical glance over his reading glasses. Then he read off the address, which Daniel quickly typed into his phone. “The name of the company is ZAFZ. It doesn’t say what that stands for, but everything is online these days, so I’m sure you can look it up.”
“Does it say anything else?” I asked while Daniel frowned at his phone.
“It was printed two weeks ago, and it also says Ivanov—that’s a surname. Whoever he is, he has a title. Facilitator.”
“What’s a facilitator?” Aunt Mona asked.
“Someone who facilitates... something?” Sharkovsky said, shrugging. “No idea. What’s this for, anyway?”
“School project,” Daniel said quickly. “International finance. This is a bonus project.”
Sharkovsky stared at him as if he didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth.
“Does it say anything else?” I asked.
He glanced at it again before handing it back. “Not that I can read, sweetheart. If you want my opinion, it looks like it’s something the two of you need to keep your noses out of. It’s best to mind your own business when it comes to people’s financial affairs.”
That prickled. Embarrassed, I accepted the paper, folded it, and shoved it back into my purse while Daniel clicked off his phone’s screen. He wasn’t happy about Sharkovsky’s condescending tone. At all. I could practically feel the annoyance radiating off him.
The art dealer’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and said, “Sorry, but I need to take this. I’ll only be a second. Help yourselves to refreshments,” he said, gesturing to a tray of vodka bottles, ice, and tumbler glasses. Then he pushed off his seat and answered the phone while padding to the opposite end of the roof.
As soon as he was out of sight behind a screen of bamboo trees, Aunt Mona swung toward us. “Come on,” she whispered. “We need to get downstairs before that housekeeper comes back.”
“What?”
“He lied to me! You think I’m going to let that stand? That’s against the gutsy gal motto.”
Alarm bells blared in my head. This had to do with whatever she’d seen from the landing downstairs. If I had a “Nancy Drew” inquisitive look, then Mona had a “Joan of Arc” defiant look, and I’d seen it plenty of times—usually when she was about to suggest something stupid, rebellious, and possibly illegal.
She jumped from her chair and grabbed my hand, tugging me to my feet. “Come on! Daniel, you too.”
Even more confused than I was, Daniel leaped to follow as Aunt Mona led us back into the house, taking two stairs at once—which, I must say, isprettyimpressive when you’re wearing orange leopard-print heels. When she hit the final landing, she turned and entered the short hallway that had piqued her curiosity during our initial climb to the roof.
“What are you doing?” I whispered hotly, heart racing madly. “These are bedrooms.”
“Hisbedroom,” she clarified after sticking her head into the second doorway. Then she disappeared inside.
Thoroughly embarrassed and well on my way to a massive stress-induced stroke, I turned around and gave Daniel an apologetic look. He glanced up and down the stairwell, and then we both followed Aunt Mona.
It was a massive bedroom. All white. Plush, shaggy rug. An excellent view of the lake. But Aunt Mona wasn’t concerned with any of that. She stood stock-still in front of a massive painting that covered half the wall.
I’d seen it before. I’d watched it being painted.
