by Marie Astor
“I’m so glad you approve,” Maurice said quietly.
“And what is the price?” Janet asked, aware of Dennis squeezing her arm.
“A thousand euros,” Maurice said readily. “Normally, we sell for much higher prices, but since this is a new artist, we’ve reduced the price significantly. May this wonderful painting brighten your new home.”
“A thousand euros—” Dennis began, but this time Janet squeezed his arm.
“Excellent,” Janet said quickly. She’d glimpsed the price tags on the other paintings hanging in the gallery and they were all between two to five thousand euros, so considering that, Maurice’s offer was pretty good. Actually, it was strangely low, but when a bargain fell into one’s lap one didn’t refuse.
“Will you take a credit card?” Dennis asked.
“Errr— I’m not sure I understand—” Maurice seemed confused. “Cash would be better. Our credit card machine can be so tricky—I don’t quite know how to work it and my sales assistant isn’t here today.”
“I have some euros in my wallet I need to spend before we leave,” Janet said, pulling out her wallet and counting its contents. “I have five hundred euros,” she said to Dennis.
Dennis checked his wallet. “I have five hundred as well. Excellent.” He handed Maurice the cash. “Now if you could just wrap this up, we’ll be on our way.”
“My pleasure. Right away.” Maurice proceeded to wrap up the painting carefully. “Let me just get a carrying case for you. I’ll be right back,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried into the back of the stock room.
A few moments later, Maurice returned with a portfolio carrying case for the painting.
“Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you,” Janet said. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Madame. Here you are.” Maurice handed her the case.
“Thank you.” Janet took the case from Maurice and gave it to Dennis.
“You’ve been most helpful,” Dennis said. “We’ll be on our way now.”
“Thank you.” Maurice bowed. “Always glad to be of service. I’ll walk you out.”
Maurice hurried to the front of the store and fumbled with the door locks to get them opened. “There. All set.” He stuck his head through the door and looked from left to right. “All clear,” he muttered. “Safe travels.”
“That was interesting,” Janet said as the gallery door closed behind them. She weaved her arm through Dennis’s as they strolled down the winding, cobblestone street.
“Bizarre is more like it,” Dennis countered. “Something about that man seemed off. Come to think of it, the whole business seemed funny.”
“Oh, stop being such a worrywart. He probably couldn’t understand what we wanted at first—you have to make allowances for the language barrier. The French are eccentric by nature. So what if he was a little strange? In the end we got a nice painting and at a bargain price.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call one thousand euros a bargain.”
“You know what I mean. You saw the price tags on some of the paintings in there.” Janet clutched Dennis’s arm and huddled closer to him—the street had gotten busier and there was scarcely enough space for passersby on the narrow pavement. “I’m going to research this artist some more once we get home. Who knows, by the time we’re ready to retire, this painting could be worth a pretty penny. Not that I would ever want to sell it,” Janet added quickly. “It’ll warm our souls as we grow old together,” she added dreamily, leaning on Dennis’s shoulder.
“Would you look at that—” Dennis muttered, turning around.
“What’s that?” Janet asked, still lost in her thoughts of domestic bliss.
“Did you see that woman?”
“What woman?”
“A woman just walked by us in such a rush she nearly bumped into me—she had on exactly the same outfit as yours. You didn’t notice that?”
“I’m not in the habit of looking at other women.” Janet disengaged her arm from Dennis’s and nudged him with her elbow. “She had exactly the same outfit as mine, huh?”
“Yes, a navy striped sun dress and red sandals. How bizarre is that?” Dennis turned halfway, craning his neck. “I think she just went into the gallery too. That is a strange coincidence—”
“That’s fascinating.” Janet yanked at his sleeve. “I’ll have you know, dear husband, that I don’t approve of you gawking at other women.”
A smile appeared on Dennis’s lips as he shook his head. “Gawking at other women? I wouldn’t dream of it, dear wife. Besides, you wear this dress so much better.”
Chapter 2
“This was a great trip,” Janet said, as she and Dennis took their seats by the bar stand in the airport business lounge. Their luggage had been checked in and they had been given their boarding passes. With less than an hour remaining until boarding, they decided to have a quick drink in the bar lounge.
“Yes it was.” Dennis agreed. He signaled to the bartender to give their order, “Two champagnes, please,” he asked and then turned his attention back to Janet. “But to be honest, I’m ready to go home. All that French food and wine can take a toll on you. And I miss Baxter. I wonder how Mrs. Chapman is fairing?” A retired librarian and former part time opera singer, Mrs. Chapman was Janet and Dennis’s very kind neighbor who adored the couple’s Jack Russell Terrier, Baxter, and agreed to babysit Baxter for the duration of their honeymoon.
“I miss Baxter too—I wish he was here with us. I bet he would’ve charmed everyone at the hotel. Mrs. Chapman emailed me the other day, saying that if we wanted to extend our stay, there’d be no problem on her part. She and Baxter are having a ball. I have to say, the idea sounds tempting—”
“Naw. Aren’t you curious to see what Ham has lined up for us?”
“We haven’t even boarded our plane and already you’re thinking about work. You’re a hopeless workaholic.”
“I thought you were going to say hopeless romantic.”
Janet wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know about that.”
“Are you saying I’m not romantic?”
“You are—when you want to be.” She had to give Dennis his due—after agreeing on the destination with her, he’d planned all the details of their honeymoon by himself because he knew how much she disliked researching hotels and airlines and he wanted to make the trip special for her. “But you’re also a workaholic.”
“With a job as cool as ours, can you blame me?”
“Fine, I take it back,” she conceded under Dennis’s penetrating gaze. She had to agree that their job was pretty cool. As private investigators working for a private intelligence agency, Kirk & Associates, Janet and Dennis got to work on cases ranging from money laundering to international conspiracies. Their boss, Ham Kirk, used to be their boss at the Treasury Investigations Department, but then he struck out on his own and Janet and Dennis had been working for him ever since. The work was more exciting and the pay wasn’t bad either. A job like that came with long hours, but since they also happened to be madly in love, long hours weren’t a problem, especially when they were both assigned to the same case. Still, it had been nice to get away—one of the longest vacations the two of them had taken together in a long time.
“I’m amazed Ham didn’t call us even once during the entire honeymoon,” Dennis mused.
“Peter must’ve hit the ground running,” Janet referred to their mutual friend, Peter Laskin, who recently joined Kirk & Associates. Peter Laskin used to work with Janet and Dennis at the Treasury. After Ham’s departure, Peter had been promoted to Ham’s old position as the head of the department. Janet and Dennis frequently reached out to him for help with analytics on some of their tougher cases. Their last case had been both dangerous and difficult, and Peter had really come through, saving their behinds. Unfortunately, Peter’s boss at the Treasury wasn’t too thrilled about that and gave him an ultimatum—no more extracurricular activities with Kirk & Associates or his career at the Treasury would be
over. Once Ham Kirk got wind of that, he put together a very generous offer for Peter Laskin to come onboard. The agency was getting so many cases that they really needed an extra hand.
“I’m sure Laskin is doing his best,” Dennis said grudgingly. “He’s the king of data analysis, but when it comes to fieldwork—”
“Get off it, Dennis,” Janet cut him off. Despite Peter’s saving Dennis’s butt during their last case and being best man at their wedding, there was a never-ending rivalry between the two men. “Peter’s great at his job and you know it. I sure am glad to have a backup at the office.”
“Me too. Me too. I’m just saying that Peter can’t handle it all on his own. Ham’s desk must be overflowing with assignments by now.”
“You mean our desks,” Janet clarified. Ham rarely got involved in the nitty gritty. As the majority partner, his main responsibility was to bring in business, which meant schmoozing with the top officials at the FBI and other government agencies that frequently retained Kirk & Associates. Although lately, the agency’s track record was the only PR they needed—the phones at Kirk & Associates were ringing non-stop.
Dennis rubbed his hands. “Monday is going to be interesting. I bet Laskin will be happy to see us back.”
“I’m sure.” Janet gave up on appeasing Dennis. The two men were bound to ‘arm wrestle’ each other the minute Dennis got back to the office. “But don’t rush it. We’re still on our honeymoon.”
The bartender placed their drinks before them, and Janet lifted her champagne glass.
“To romantic getaways.”
“To romantic getaways.” Dennis clinked his glass against Janet’s and took a long sip. “And to my wonderful wife,” he added, holding up his glass.
“To my wonderful husband.” Janet lifted her glass to her lips. “Mmm, the perfect conclusion to the perfect trip.”
“It certainly is.” Dennis leaned in closer, pulling Janet in for a kiss.
“For a workaholic you’re one damn good kisser,” Janet muttered after Dennis pulled away from her.
“Why, thank you for the compliment. I aim to please.” He grinned. “Speaking of the perfect conclusion to our trip,” he added, checking his watch, “we’d better hurry or we won’t make our flight. Boarding starts soon and our gate is on the other end of the terminal.” Dennis reached for his wallet and counted out several euros as a tip for the bartender.
Janet took another sip of her champagne. As she set her glass down, she noticed a young man in the seat next to Dennis’s by the bar. She wasn’t sure when he’d arrived because she didn’t remember seeing him there when they’d first walked in. He must’ve come in when she was busy locking lips with Dennis. He was dressed in black jeans, white shirt with a skinny tie, and a gray blazer. He seemed to be absorbed in reading something on his iPhone. Nothing strange there, except for the fact that there were plenty of empty bar stools. No matter, they were leaving anyway.
“Ready?” Dennis asked her.
Janet finished her champagne. “All set—” she cut herself short, as she noticed the young man next to Dennis reaching for Dennis’s carryon, which contained the seascape they had bought at the gallery. “Excuse me, sir, but that is my husband’s bag,” Janet said firmly.
“Oh, pardon me!” The young man adjusted his glasses. “Silly me! I forgot I put my bag on the other side of my seat.” He spoke with a heavy French accent. He held up a portfolio carryon bag identical to the one Dennis had. “Would you look at that,” he said, genuinely baffled.
“Seems we have the same bag,” Dennis said absentmindedly, picking up his bag. “We’d better make sure we didn’t mix them up.” He opened up the zipper and looked inside. “Nope, all set.”
“Oh, I am very relieved to hear it!” the young man exclaimed. “I am flying to Zurich to showcase my portfolio to a gallery owner. You had just saved me from a terrible calamity and I’m forever indebted to you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Janet waved her hand dismissively. “Are you an artist?”
The young man blushed. “I am yet to sell a painting, but if my meeting goes well, I might have a chance.”
“You don’t have to sell paintings to be an artist,” Janet pointed out.
The young man smiled nervously. “You’re very kind. But most people, including my father, would disagree.”
“Then I guess I disagree with most people. Would you mind showing us some of your work?” Janet asked. “I’d love to see it.”
A quick frown crossed the man’s forehead. “I’d be delighted, but everything is wrapped up very tightly.”
“Some other time then,” Dennis cut in, taking Janet’s arm. “Honey, we really have to run, or we’ll miss our flight. Good luck with your meeting,” Dennis added to the young man. “Maybe we’ll be buying a painting of yours someday.”
“One can only hope,” the young man said wistfully.
“Wasn’t that funny?” Janet murmured into Dennis’s ear as they were leaving the lounge.
“What was?” Dennis asked, busy looking for the check-in gate.
“That guy having exactly the same bag as yours.”
“Gates one through five,” Dennis muttered, “good, we’re going the right way. What was that?”
“The bag,” Janet repeated, as she followed Dennis, “the guy at the bar had exactly the same bag as yours. Don’t you think that’s funny?”
“Not really—it’s a portfolio case. They all look the same.”
“I guess. I’m glad I spotted him though—imagine if he’d walked off with your bag.”
“After everything we went through to buy that seascape, I don’t even want to think about the possibility,” Dennis quipped. “Now let’s get a move on, or we’ll miss our boarding.”
***
“Home sweet home at last!” Dennis thrust the key into the front door lock and turned it open. He swung open the door and wheeled in his suitcase.
Janet followed Dennis, dragging her suitcase behind her. “You can say that again. I feel like I could sleep for ten hours straight,” she added, closing the door shut. Their flight got delayed at the last minute and they ended up sitting an additional hour on the plane before takeoff. It was only six p.m. New York time, but the jetlag was starting to take its toll and Janet could feel her eyes closing.
“That sounds like an excellent idea.”
“Except you forget that Mrs. Chapman is going to be here any minute to drop off Baxter,” Janet reminded him.
As if on cue, the doorbell rang.
“That must be Mrs. Chapman. She’s right on time.” Janet reached for the door handle. As she predicted, their neighbor was standing on the threshold, with Baxter by her side. The moment Janet opened the door, Baxter bolted inside.
“Hello, dearie!” Mrs. Chapman chirped and gave Janet a peck on the cheek.
“Hi Mrs. Chapman. Baxter, come here you!” Janet reached down to pick up Baxter, but he slipped right through her fingers, barking excitedly and circling around her feet.
“Great to see you, Mrs. Chapman,” Dennis greeted his neighbor as he rushed to the front door. “Baxter, buddy!” He spread out his feet like a goalie, ready to scoop up Baxter.
Seeing both Janet and Dennis at once, Baxter was struck with a momentary dilemma as to which of his masters to run to first, but he resolved it quickly by pawing at Janet’s legs and then rushing off to Dennis.
Dennis picked up Baxter and scratched him behind his ear. “Were you a good boy? You didn’t give Mrs. Chapman a hard time, did you?”
“Oh, no, Dennis. Baxter was perfectly well-behaved,” Mrs. Chapman assured him. “It was a pleasure having him.”
“I don’t know what we’d do without you.” Janet smiled. “We’re both so grateful for your help.”
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Chapman waved her hand dismissively. “I always enjoy Baxter’s company, as do all the folks at the community center.” A widow, Mrs. Chapman kept herself busy by being an active member of the local community center w
here she frequently organized dances and other social events for seniors in the neighborhood. She was also a self-proclaimed fashionista. Today her choice of attire was as daring as always and included a pink top with a puffy black and white polka dot skirt.”
“Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea maybe?” Janet offered.
“I’ll pass on the tea, but if you have something stronger?” Mrs. Chapman inquired.
“We have just the thing.” Dennis rummaged in the duty free bags they’d brought from the airport and fished out a bottle of French cognac. “Please, Mrs. Chapman, have a seat.”
“Are you sure I’m not intruding? I can tell that you just got in,” she said hesitantly.
“It’s fine. We could all use a drink.” Janet ushered her into the living room.
“Just one drink,” Mrs. Chapman agreed demurely. She made her way into the living room and took a seat on the couch.
Janet grabbed the glasses and Dennis opened the cognac bottle. A few moments later they were all comfortably seated on the sofa. Baxter was pacing the floor excitedly, momentarily settling by Janet’s or Dennis’s feet and then pacing and sniffing again.
“Sit down, Baxter.” Janet tried to get Baxter to sit on her lap, but he wouldn’t have any of it.
“I bet he’s fishing for a treat,” Dennis said. “Sorry, buddy, we didn’t bring you any treats—it’s against the rules—can’t bring food from overseas,” Dennis explained.
“I can fix this.” Janet got up and headed into the kitchen. She opened the cupboard where she kept Baxter’s treats and took out several pieces of dog beef jerky. A few moments later she was back in the living room. At the sight of her, Baxter froze, sitting on his hind paws—no doubt the smell of the beef jerky had hit his sensitive nose. “Enjoy.” Janet handed Baxter his treats.