“Exactly. When Rock Star gets called to a job, he brings a large rolling bag with him that contains his bomb-finding equipment. It’s perfect. We can empty it out and the bag will fit the new paintings we are bringing in and allow us to take away the old ones undetected.”
I consider it. There’s an inherent trust in France that doesn’t exist in the United States. If someone tells you they’re there to do a job, they’ll likely be believed.
I nod at Lucie as I work through all of this in my head.
“And where will we get the uniforms? And the badge?”
“Rock Star will give them to me. I already told him I have imagined a delightful new role-play scenario where I will play the inspector and he’ll be a potential victim. I’ll need to come savehimthis time.”
“It’s a two-person job, switching the paintings.”
“I said I want to bring a friend who will watch us. I can get two uniforms, and the proper equipment, the bag, and all that.”
“What about the badge?”
She reaches into the back pocket of her jeans and flashes a shiny badge in my face.
“It fell out of his jacket last night. He was knackered!”
Her Cheshire cat grin is infectious. My lips widen in response.
“You really are a genius.”
“I know.”
“Do I actually have to come with you for a ménage à…whatever it is?”
“It would be less ménage à trois and more a voyeuristic playdate.” She waits, twirling a black curl around her index finger as I squirm slightly. “It could be good for you,” she continues.
“Um…” I begin.
“You really should see your face right now. No, you don’t have to come, unless you want to. The invitation is always open. But I’ll handle him. He should be able to get us the suits in a few weeks. I asked for something that fit me. He knows I’m very into authenticity. He’ll be getting two women’s suits.”
“One for you, and one for…?” I know it will be me. It can’t be Colette. She is the one who will be the face of the Van Gogh lostSunflowerssale—the one who will be approaching theexperts to claim she found the painting in the basement of her family’s home. She can’t be connected to this part of Stella’s plan.
“You, of course, but don’t worry. I will do all of the talking in French and you can be the silent but deadly looking one.”
I still don’t believe this will actually happen, that we will actually go through with it.
“I’m a regular at the museum. What if the guards recognize me?”
“Unlikely. Different staff entirely from the day, different kinds of training. And I’ll do some heavy makeup on you.”
“Have you heard from Stella?” I ask. “Have you told her this?”
“No. I called the cottage and didn’t get an answer, but there’s no machine there, so no way to leave a message. We can try again tonight.”
I reach into my purse. “Matthew kept some things from her apartment. Her tea set was one of them.” I show Lucie the cup covered in the tiniest rosebuds and hummingbirds.
Lucie takes it in her hand and lets it dangle from its petite handle. “How positively darling.”
“She loved these cups,” I say, snatching it back from her. “Drank all her cocktails out of them and used them for ashtrays.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
“Do you like Stella?” I realize I haven’t asked Lucie or Colette this since we’ve been back from the island.
“Very much. How can you not? She’s a charming curmudgeon in the best possible way.”
