Treacherous

by Sara Rosett

  Thacker went on, “Of course, all those details are…boring.” He touched his napkin to the corner of his mouth then said. “We were trying out a new program at Eon.”

  Zoe realized he was talking about his company, Eon Industries.

  “It didn’t work,” he continued. “One of the biggest goofs we’ve had in a long time. Thankfully, Kaz caught it after only one package went out—yours.”

  “Faulty mail merge.”

  Zoe glanced across the table, surprised that Kaz jumped into the middle of Thacker’s story. “But the package came from a company called Spar Eon,” she said.

  “That’s an old company of mine,” Thacker said. “I closed it down a few years ago, but the details were still in our database. Eon Industries is a much better name.”

  “And the zip code that didn’t exist?” Zoe asked.

  “Placeholders,” Kaz said.

  Thacker said, “Those numbers were supposed to be replaced with the correct zip code before labels were printed, but an overzealous employee—not Kaz, here, who checks and double checks everything—took…initiative.” Sarcasm laced his tone. “She had those labels printed, and the first package mailed before anyone noticed what was wrong.”

  Thacker twisted and reached behind him to a sideboard made of rough wood. He picked up a padlock. “Your husband was on a list of names to receive this.” He handed it to her. “A new digital lock. The idea was to send this lock as a promotional item to security specialists around the country to generate interest in a new promotion we’re running.”

  “Freddie doesn’t know what it means to be retired.” Mary speared a tomato. “He can’t leave it alone. He’s always doing something new.”

  “Semi-retired. But I do hand things off, eventually.”

  “Not soon enough,” Mary said.

  Thacker laughed. “Any time spent on business is too much for Mary,” he said to Zoe.

  Since work was a touchy subject between the two of them, Zoe said, “So we should have gotten a padlock, not a sculpture.”

  “Yes,” Thacker said. “The little ballerina had been packed for transport to our home in Florida on Star Island.”

  “It will look perfect on the coffee table down there,” Mary said.

  “I left instructions for the first set of promotional items to be sent out…” Thacker exchanged a look with Kaz, “…but only after the addresses had been checked. That didn’t happen. The box with the Degas copy was sitting with the promotional items. Someone placed a label on the first box, which was the sculpture—not a lock—and sent it out.”

  “So it was a series of glitches and coincidences—that’s how I received the copy of the ballet dancer.” It was hard to believe…a little too hard to believe? Zoe wasn’t sure. It could have happened. But there was something a little too extraordinary about it for Zoe.

  But who argues with a multimillionaire who invites you to visit his mountain cabin and serves you homemade roasted chicken? “That’s quite a story,” Zoe said.

  “As bizarre as it is, that’s what happened.”

  8

  “Everyone ready for dessert?” Mary stood and collected plates. “Chocolate mousse.”

  Kaz said, “I have to finish coding that program,” and left the room, disappearing down the short hallway off the kitchen.

  Thacker said to Zoe, “Come take a closer look at my butterfly painting while Mary gets dessert.”

  Mary asked as she opened the refrigerator, “Who wants whipped cream?”

  “I’ll always take whipped cream.” Zoe followed Thacker to the other end of the table.

  Instead of focusing on the painting, he rested his hand on the piece of furniture below it. It had shallow drawers and reminded Zoe of a map cabinet at a library. “This is my cabinet of curiosities.” He reached for a drawer.

  Zoe wasn’t sure she wanted to see what Thacker considered a curiosity, but when he opened it Zoe saw that he meant curiosities in the Victorian sense of the word.

  The drawer contained a framed collection of various sizes of butterflies, all of them yellow, each labeled with a scientific name. Thacker closed that drawer and opened another one. Another framed collection of butterflies rested inside it. This time the butterflies were white with black accents. Another drawer held a collection of beetles. He closed the drawer and waved a hand up and down. “All vintage,” he said. He tilted his head toward the butterfly painting. “This seemed the appropriate place for this painting—or rather, this…copy.”

  “It’s lovely,” Zoe said. Besides capturing the stunning iridescent blue of the butterfly’s wings, the painting also showed the smallest details, down to the faint lines that ran through the shimmering wings.

  In the painting, a shadow fell over half of the butterfly, throwing one side of its wings into darkness, but even in the shadow, the painter had picked out the faint contour and muted coloring of the wing. A brown and taupe background focused all the viewer’s attention on the butterfly.

  “It’s a blue morpho,” Thacker said. “Not hard to come by now.” He opened the top drawer of the cabinet and took out a framed box with several different blue butterflies. “At the time this was painted, many Europeans hadn’t seen a blue morpho, especially not a live one. Martin Johnson Heade went to Brazil to study plants and animals in their native habitat and then paint them. You might not have heard of him. He wasn’t well known during his lifetime. Critics thought he was all right, but nothing special. Lately, he’s been recognized for his groundbreaking compositions and beautiful paintings.” Thacker took a few steps away to a bookshelf in the living area and returned with a large art book.

  He found a page with a painting of a hummingbird and an orchid. He handed the book to Zoe, who had noticed that his pattern of speaking with pauses and emphasis had disappeared when art was the topic. He was clearly passionate about art and butterflies, and his showmanship with his speech had slipped away. “Look at that unique composition. See how the orchid dominates the frame, and yet the hummingbird is full of movement and life. And in the distance, the mountain and the rain—brilliant.”

  Zoe said, “They’re so detailed. They look like botanical illustrations.”

  “Yes, they do. Worthy of being included in any Victorian field guide or wildlife guide. But besides the exacting detail, you also have to consider the arrangement of the elements, the presentation.” He turned to another page. “Notice the vegetation. See this passion fruit flower? And look here.” He flipped to another section. “Here’s a banana plant and a coffee plant. The accents and backgrounds are spectacular in their own right.” He set the book down on the table, open to a page that featured the orchid and hummingbird in the foreground and a rainy tropical vista in the background. He stepped back and looked at it, resting his chin in his hand. “Do you feel it? That the background isn’t just filler or a placeholder?”

  Zoe tilted her head as she studied the steamy rainforest background. “It does give the painting… atmosphere. A mood.”

  “Yes,” Thacker said, his voice quickening with enthusiasm. “I knew you were the right person to talk to about this.”

  Zoe was flattered, but she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Fortunately, Thacker went on. “There is another blue morpho butterfly painting by Heade.” An excited light came into his eyes. “I should say, it’s thought that there is another one.”

  “The documentation on Heade’s work is incomplete?”

  Thacker let out a bark of laughter. “I’ll say. Heade was prolific. He made his living through painting. He sold enough to maintain his lifestyle—and that’s a lot of paintings.”

  In the background, the clinks of dishes sounded, then the distinctive swish of the whipped cream nozzle. Thacker seemed oblivious to anything except talking about the art. He went on, “Heade was productive, and he traveled widely. The trip to Brazil was just one of his tours. The upshot is that no one is quite sure exactly how many paintings he produced.”

  Thacker raised his eyebro
ws as he tilted his head toward his butterfly painting. “Even this one has some questions around it. Officially, it’s part of a series that he painted while he was in South America. The series features mostly hummingbirds. The blue morpho is an outlier. After Heade visited Brazil, he went to England where he produced many paintings similar to the ones he painted in Brazil, cranking them out for an appreciative fan base there. There is some debate about how many hummingbird paintings he painted in Brazil versus what he painted later in England.” Thacker waved his hand, brushing that topic away. “But I’m going off on a tangent. What’s important is that if there’s another painting with a blue morpho butterfly in a different composition, I want it.”

  This was the first time Zoe had come face-to-face with a collector’s passion. She wouldn’t describe the light in his eyes as feverish, but his gaze had an intensity, a determination, that hadn’t been there during the meal. He would have his painting, if it was at all possible. His fervor was on a completely different level than Zoe’s desire for a new pair of shoes or that cute handbag she saw last time she browsed online.

  Thacker propped an arm on his cabinet of curiosities. “And I think you’re exactly the right person to help me find it.”

  “If it even exists?” Zoe asked.

  “That would be the first step,” he acknowledged with a laugh.

  “Dessert is ready,” Mary called.

  Thacker closed the art book and handed it to Zoe. “You’ll need this.”

  “But I haven’t said that Harrington and I will find your painting, if it even exists.” The job sounded tempting but she bristled at his attitude that her participation was a foregone conclusion.

  “Oh, I think you’ll take this on,” Thacker said. “I can see you’re interested. Think about it for a few days and get back to me,” he said in a tone that indicated he knew that thinking about it was only a formality. “And I don’t want to hire Harrington. I want you to do it. He’s a great guy, but it won’t be long before he retires. You know I’m right. I can always spot the up-and-coming people. You’re one of them.”

  The words were flattering and gave Zoe’s battered self-esteem as an art recovery specialist a boost, but she didn’t want to get sidetracked from the main topic, the art. “Why do you think there’s another blue butterfly painting?” The book weighed heavily in her arms.

  “See, I knew it—you’re hooked.” Thacker replaced the framed collection of blue butterflies in the cabinet. “There’s a rumor that a painting similar to my blue morpho surfaced in Florida a week ago.”

  Zoe opened her mouth to ask a question, but Thacker raised his hand. “I know you’re wondering how I would have heard about this, but let’s just say that it’s well-known that I collect Heade’s paintings, and that I’ve been looking for the other blue morpho painting for a long time. People tell me things.”

  He pushed the cabinet drawer closed. “Several new paintings belonging to Heade have been discovered over the last couple of years as he’s become more well-known. It’s not unthinkable that someone could have purchased one of his paintings, not known its value, and sold it for a few dollars at a yard sale. Or it might have been inherited, and the person who received it knows nothing about Heade.”

  “What does this rumored blue butterfly painting look like?”

  “It’s similar to mine, but besides the butterfly, it also incorporates either a hummingbird or multiple hummingbirds. It would be more similar in composition to the orchid paintings with the hummingbirds.”

  “You seem to know an awful lot of details, for a painting that’s never been confirmed to exist.”

  He lifted his shoulder. “It’s all rumor and speculation. The second blue butterfly painting is mentioned in Heade’s correspondence, which is where the possibility of a second painting originated.”

  Mary called again, and Thacker gestured to the table, indicating Zoe could lead the way back. He continued speaking as they walked. “There’s also a mention of a another blue butterfly painting in a newspaper from 1866, which fits with the time my blue butterfly was produced.”

  Zoe sat down at the table as Mary placed dishes of chocolate mousse at each place. Zoe picked up a spoon. “And you think this second blue butterfly painting has been undiscovered since the mid-1860s, tucked away in someone’s garage or on someone’s wall with them not realizing it?”

  “It’s happened many times. One family was using one of Heade’s still lifes to cover a hole in their wall. It sold for over one million dollars. Another painting of his was stored away in an attic for years.”

  Mary took a seat and drew her tiny serving of chocolate mousse close to her. “Is he bothering you about that other blue butterfly painting?”

  Before Zoe could answer, Thacker jumped in. “I’m not bothering her about it. I’m hiring her to find it.”

  “I haven’t actually taken on this job,” Zoe reminded him.

  “Yet,” Thacker said. “You’ll agree. I know you will. I can see that you’re interested. You’re curious about this painting. Once that happens…” he shrugged. “You won’t be able to not look for it.”

  Mary waved her spoonful of chocolate mousse at Zoe. “You might as well go ahead and take the job. Freddie usually gets what he wants. I should know, I was one of his first hires.” She winked at him.

  9

  Sunday

  “So how did you leave it?” Harrington asked.

  Zoe switched her phone from one ear to the other and caught Jack’s attention. He was across the store examining the spiky crystals inside a geode. Zoe tilted her head toward the door and mouthed the word Harrington. Jack nodded and went back to examining the purple crystals inside the rock cavity as she headed outside. “I told Thacker that I would consider it,” Zoe said. “I didn’t want him to think it was a done deal, but he acted like he didn’t even hear me.”

  “That’s quite common,” Harrington said. “These high-powered businessmen don’t like hearing their plans may not be executed exactly as they would like.”

  “And he said he wanted to work directly with me, not Throckmorton Enquiries,” Zoe said, figuring it was best to get that detail on the table.

  “Did he?” Harrington said. “That’s excellent.”

  “Not many people would say that in your place.” Zoe was relieved that Harrington had responded the way she thought he would. He’d never been jealous or stingy and she hadn’t expected him to start behaving that way now, but she couldn’t help being a bit worried about what his reaction would be to the news that Thacker didn’t want to hire Throckmorton Enquiries.

  Harrington chuckled. “That may be true, but I have more work than I can handle. I’d be delighted for you to intercept a few cases that would normally come my way. The Milam case is taking much more time than I thought.”

  “How is that going?” Zoe asked as she paced back and forth in front of the window of the store with its display of fossils and geodes. She walked as far as the life-size model of a raptor dinosaur, an eye-catching attraction that the store had placed out front, then reversed course.

  “Unfortunately, it appears that I have run into a dead end here in Japan. I’m on the next return flight to London.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’ve heard of another possibility and will track it down next. It may involve another trip, so I’ll most likely be out-of-pocket again. The timing for you to take on the Thacker case couldn’t be better.”

  “But then there’s the issue of working with him,” Zoe said. “You said you heard some rumors…”

  Harrington cleared his throat. “Nothing that I’ve been able to confirm. I’ve heard some—indications—let’s call them, that a few of his art purchases may not have been completely aboveboard. However, he is an important collector and rumors are just that—rumors. Nothing has been proved. It’s not a good idea to turn away someone of his stature.”

  “So you would advise to proceed with caution,” Zoe said with a smile, thinking t
hat that was usually Harrington’s advice.

  “Don’t I always advise that?”

  “Without fail. And I’m sure that’s why you’ve been in this business so long.”

  “Possibly.” Harrington’s voice shifted. “How is Vail?”

  “Gorgeous. Mountain scenery is one of the most beautiful landscapes in the world, at least in my book. Jack and I are actually in Breckenridge today. The chairlift in Vail is closed for repairs. We wanted to go to the top of the mountains so we came over here.”

  “You’re at the peak of the mountain? You’re able to get mobile reception there? The connection is wonderful.”

  “No, we haven’t even made it through the town to the chairlift yet.”

  “Well, I’ll let you get to it then.”

  Zoe ended the call and was about to return to the store, but Jack met her on the sidewalk. He handed her a small bag. “For you.”

  Zoe opened the bag and found a pair of gold earrings shaped like aspen leaves. “They’re beautiful Jack. I love them.”

  “I saw you looking at them before you got your call.” As Zoe removed the earrings that she was wearing and switched to the new ones, Jack said, “They’re real aspen leaves coated in gold.”

  Zoe gestured at his empty hands. “But no geode?”

  “I decided I don’t need to spend a couple hundred dollars on a rock, no matter how cool it looks.”

  “Practical as ever,” Zoe said, with a teasing tone in her voice. But she was secretly glad he hadn’t bought it because something like that would make a perfect birthday or Christmas gift. “In that case, I think we should head for the chairlift.”

  “Good idea.”

  They strolled through the rest of the town on their way to the chairlift. While Vail had a glitzy almost European feel to it, Breckinridge’s atmosphere was closer to a frontier mining town. A few buildings in rough wood siding at one end of the town showed Breckenridge’s authentic roots in the early mining days. Of course the little town was now a ski resort and had its share of T-shirt stores and kitschy shops selling refrigerator magnets and baseball caps.