The Complete Death Du Jour Mystery Collection

by Hillary Avis

  Mr. Lazam sniffed. “We’ll see. I’m a very busy man. I don’t have time for just anybody.”

  Bethany choked in disbelief and Ryan squeezed her shoulders reassuringly.

  “That’s enough, Dad,” he said evenly. “Let’s keep the focus where it belongs tonight—on art and artists.”

  Mr. Lazam grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray and tossed it back in one quick motion. He handed the glass to his wife. “Fine. Now if you don’t mind, I have investors here.”

  He stalked off in the opposite direction of the crowd—away from the emerging artists’ wing. Ryan shrugged. Mrs. Lazam gestured apologetically with the empty champagne glass and hurried after her husband.

  Ryan shook his head. “I’m honestly surprised he didn’t bring his lawyer over and write me out of his will on the spot.”

  “He couldn’t argue with the will of the people!”

  “My dad can argue with anything,” Ryan chuckled, but then his face grew serious again. “I just wish he was proud of me—just once in my life.”

  I know the feeling. Bethany swallowed the lump in her throat. “Well, I think your mom is proud of you. And I know I am.”

  He looked down at her thoughtfully, and then slowly traced her cheek with one finger, following the line of sequins that Viv had glued to her face. “Did you mean what you said before, about being my girlfriend?”

  She nodded, embarrassed. “I was going to tell you before, but I didn’t want to take attention away from the museum opening. But then when your dad was being—well, anyway, I thought it might be a welcome distraction.”

  “Very welcome.” He leaned down and kissed her impulsively, and she felt her cheeks flush.

  She felt someone grab her elbow and then heard Viv’s voice. “Come on, you two! Don’t just stand in the corner all night—let’s dance!”

  Bethany looked up and saw Charley, Kimmy, and Milo waiting behind Viv, who was waving her glowing blue wand around. In the black light, the mermaid costumes looked magical, almost like they were actually underwater. Other partygoers noticed the glowing costumes and began to comment and gather around the group. Bethany grinned.

  It’s a great night for Kimmy and Charley to get a little special attention.

  Then, something behind Ryan caught her eye. Something glowed softly in the periphery of the black light. Bethany stood on tiptoe to see over Ryan’s shoulder.

  On the wall, the portrait of the young woman was lit up like a Christmas tree. Her beautiful porcelain complexion glowed like a hot oven. But the painting of her as an older woman did not. Bethany gasped.

  One of the portraits is a fake!

  “What is it? Are you OK?” Ryan looked at her with concern. She put a hand over her mouth and shook her head, unable to tear her eyes away from the glowing painting. He turned to see what she was looking at. “Oh no,” he said, his voice filled with dread.

  Chapter 24

  “WHAT’S GOING ON?” CHARLEY asked, her body tense and ready to act.

  Bethany grabbed the wand from Viv and clicked it off before anyone else noticed the effect the black light had on the portrait. “Nothing. It’s fine.”

  “Hey!” Viv yelped and made a swipe for the light wand. “Give that back!”

  Ryan shook his head, seemingly in a daze. “It’s not fine. It’s not fine at all. How many”—he scanned the room and its many paintings—“how many are there? I have to get them off the wall!”

  He reached for the affected painting, but Bethany grabbed his arm. “Don’t. You’ll set off the alarm. Let’s stay calm. It may be that this is the only one. You can quietly retire that painting after the party. It doesn’t need to be a big deal.”

  Ryan nodded mutely. The crowd that had gathered to admire the glowing mermaids began to disperse now that the light was turned off, and Bethany breathed a sigh of relief.

  Charley put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Come on, I can feel that something’s not right. Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Everything’s fine!” Bethany insisted. “Don’t worry—there’s no worrying allowed at your bachelorette party! Let’s go see the other wing of the museum. Milo, do you mind helping Viv swim over there? I’ll catch up in a minute.”

  “Sure!” He nodded eagerly.

  She smiled gratefully at him. Viv made another grab for the black light wand, but Bethany held it behind her back. “Can I just borrow this for a sec? I want to show Ryan something.”

  “Fine.” Viv shrugged and took Milo’s arm. “But I want it back when the dancing starts!”

  Charley and Kimmy followed Viv and Milo out of the ballroom and into the foyer. When Bethany was satisfied they were on their way, she looked up at Ryan to see how he was doing. His face was still grim as he stared at the pair of portraits.

  “I just can’t believe one slipped through into the collection,” he said.

  “At least two slipped through. This one and the one that Bernard gave Bella, right?”

  He nodded. “Let’s check the others.”

  The nearest paintings were also companion works, the sailboats that Lucien had shown them in the studio. They waited until the knot of people next to them drifted on to another set of paintings, then moved close to the art, shielding it from view of the other partygoers.

  Bethany held her breath, clicked on the wand, and briefly passed it in front of the two paintings. To her dismay, the sail on one of the boats fluoresced immediately.

  Ryan rubbed his forehead. “No. No. This is not happening. Is it possible that there are more? That half or more of the museum’s collection is just—garbage?”

  “Shh,” Bethany said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure nobody could hear them. “It can’t be. Wasn’t it all authenticated as part of the sale?”

  He nodded, still staring at the sailboats. “Lucien did the authentication—he’s the world’s foremost expert on Peregrines, and he stood to gain nothing from the sale, so we trusted him.”

  “Where is he now?” Bethany scanned the room, but Lucien and his champagne glass were nowhere to be seen. “Maybe he can explain what’s going on. Because either Lucien tricked Bernard into collecting forgeries, or Bernard tricked Lucien into believing that his collection was all genuine.”

  “If I know Lucien, he’s either in the kitchen eating, or he’s upstairs in his studio. My money is on the studio.”

  Bethany nodded. “Let’s try there first. I hate to break it to you, but I think you’re going to have to carry me up the stairs again.” She grinned at him.

  A wicked smile spread across his face. He grabbed her and tossed her over his shoulder. She squealed and held on for dear life as he unhooked the velvet rope and took the stairs two and three at a time. By the time he got to the top, they were both out of breath.

  He set her down and she double-checked her starfish to make sure there were no wardrobe malfunctions. Luckily, Viv’s kit had been stocked with plenty of dress tape, and they’d had the foresight to apply it liberally, so Bethany’s costume was still in place.

  Phew.

  Ryan took her hand and slowed his pace so she could keep up in her costume. Ahead, the door to Lucien’s studio was closed. Ryan knocked on the door and then cracked it open without waiting for an answer. The studio was dark, and Ryan shook his head. “He’s not here.”

  Bethany nodded. “Why don’t you go look in the kitchen?”

  “You’re not coming with me?”

  She shook her head and clicked on the black light. “I want to check the other paintings if that’s OK. The ones still in storage.”

  He nodded. “I’ll be right back, as soon as I find Lucien.”

  She smiled as he bounded back down the hallway and disappeared down the stairs, and then turned her attention back to the studio.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw that the room was different than the last time she’d seen it. It was tidier, for one thing. All the paints were neatly organized, the brushes clean, the paintings stored awa
y in the cabinet. The light that had streamed in from the garden was replaced with the flat inky darkness of night. The only illumination came from the faint glow of the moon through the clouds.

  She shuffled her way to the back of the room where the paintings were stored and began to flick through them, looking for a particular one.

  If my hunch is right...

  She found the piece she was looking for. It was the painting that had hung above Simon’s mantel in his lighthouse apartment, the one that showed a sailboat on a placid sea. The one that was the companion painting to Bella’s storm. Bella’s fake storm.

  She clicked on the black light wand and held it up to the sailboat. Its sagging sails stayed dark. It was genuine.

  She opened the rack to the next two paintings. They, too, were companions. One was a small child holding a puppy, and the other was a teenage boy with a graying poodle on a leash. Immediately, she saw the skin of the younger boy light up in the glow of the wand.

  One real, one fake.

  She turned to another pair, these of a woman with a housecat. The same—one glows and one doesn’t.

  “Half of them,” she breathed.

  The overhead lights suddenly turned on, and Bethany jumped. She turned, expecting to see Ryan in the doorway, but got another surprise—it was Lucien, and he was alone.

  Maybe Ryan sent him up from the kitchen.

  “Half of them what?” he asked.

  “Half of them are forged,” she said. “Turn off the lights again and I’ll show you.”

  He obliged and the room went dark again. Bethany blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted and then felt Lucien at her shoulder.

  “Show me.” His voice came as a whisper.

  She turned on the black light and held it up to the two companion paintings in the rack before her. One lit up.

  “They’re all like that. All the companions,” she said.

  “Hm.”

  “Do you have any explanation?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Lucien said calmly. “The ones that glow are those that I’ve restored, and the others were in good condition already.”

  She frowned. “It just so happens that you only restored one of each companion pair?”

  He smiled at her, his teeth glinting in the faint moonlight, and Bethany’s blood chilled.

  Why is he smiling? He shouldn’t be smiling. She took a step backward.

  His smiled disappeared when she stepped away from him. “I think you need to leave now. You’re not authorized to be in the studio. You could damage the art.”

  She crossed her arms and refused to budge. “You mean the forged art that you tricked Bernard into collecting and then tricked the Lazams into buying?”

  Lucien threw back his head and laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Tricked Bernard—that’s a joke. He knew exactly what he was doing. He’d planned it from the beginning, even before he hired me.”

  “Bernard forged half of his collection?”

  Lucien snorted. “That’s hilarious, too. Bernard had about as much artistic talent as a fish. That’s why he needed me.”

  Bethany gasped. “You weren’t restoring his paintings—you were forging new ones!”

  “Ding ding ding. I’ve always said you were more than just a pretty face. Bernard didn’t hire me because I’m such a brilliant conservator. A million other people could do that job. He hired me for my uncanny ability to mimic just about any artist’s style. That’s my own personal genius.” Lucien’s voice swelled with false modesty. Bethany started to relax, but then Lucien grabbed a palette knife from the work table nearby and held it out toward her. She froze, her eyes fixed on it.

  At least it’s not sharp—but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt.

  She tried to stall him. “How did you get away with forging half of them? Didn’t someone wonder where all these paintings came from?”

  He chuckled, still brandishing the tool. “That part was Bernard’s personal genius. Whenever he bought a Peregrine, he’d buy a second painting from an unknown artist. I’d paint a companion painting on top of it, we’d attribute it to Peregrine, and voila! Instant provenance.”

  Bethany glanced over her shoulder. Please, someone come up here to check on me before this nutball stabs me with a palette knife.

  The knife in his hand wobbled as he stared at her. She could see he was getting anxious, so she tried to keep him talking. “So Bernard knew everything—and he knew the weaknesses of the collection. That’s why he wanted to be mummified, not to restore the paintings, but to make the forgeries more authentic!”

  He nodded. “A few more weeks of work and your silly little light wouldn’t have shown a thing. It’s a shame I didn’t have time to finish the restorations before my mummia was confiscated.”

  “They weren’t restorations, though, were they? You mean finish your forgeries.” The instant the words were out of Bethany’s mouth, she regretted them.

  Don’t tease the tiger when you’re in the cage!

  She tried to smile. “Bernard’s forgeries, I mean. They were his plan. It’s not your fault—you were part of his plan, too. I’m sure if you explain everything to the police, they’ll understand. Just put down the knife, and—”

  He barked a laugh. “Oh, yes, they’ll understand perfectly. ‘I had to kill her, officer, because she threatened to expose me.’”

  Bethany swallowed. “You don’t have to kill me. We can work this out.”

  “Not you. Maybe you aren’t so bright, after all.” He tapped the knife against his palm, apparently waiting for her to unravel his meaning.

  If he doesn’t mean me, then he has to mean—

  “Bella,” she whispered. “Bella figured out what you were doing after she tried to sell her painting. And when she confronted you, you—”

  He lunged, but to her surprise, it wasn’t toward her—it was toward the paintings. He stabbed the forged cat painting and ripped the palette knife downward, tearing a huge gash in it. She gasped.

  He looked at her and tilted his head. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  Lucien turned back to the rack, located the next companion pair, and stabbed again.

  “What are you doing?!” Bethany cried.

  He smiled at her again, his eyes glittering. “What are you doing?”

  He stabbed a third forged painting, tearing it from corner to corner. “This is going to be a very expensive insurance claim.”

  “Stop!” she yelled, and tried to grab his arm.

  “Stop!” he mimicked. “No!”

  He looked toward the door, and she realized with horror that he was setting her up. He planned to blame her for the damage to the paintings as soon as someone walked into the studio! She backed away from him as quickly as she could, cursing her costume.

  Whose bright idea was to dress as something that can’t walk? Oh, right, mine.

  She hobbled and hopped her way out the door and down the hall, but Lucien caught up with her at the top of the stairs. She swung a desperate punch at him, but he grabbed her wrist and squeezed until she gasped, her fist falling open. He shoved the handle of the palette knife into her palm.

  “Sweet dreams,” he murmured in her ear, and then pushed her as hard as he could.

  Her legs trapped by her sequined tail, Bethany teetered at the top of the marble stairs, scrabbling for the banister, and then lost her footing and fell.

  Chapter 25

  FOR ONE TERRIFYING moment, Bethany was airborne. Her feet left the top stair and her arms flailed wildly as she fruitlessly grasped for safety.

  This is it—my head is going to crack on the steps, and that’ll be the end of me.

  Half a second later, she landed in a jumble on the stairs, but instead of cold, hard marble, her head—and the rest of her—met strong, warm flesh. She found herself held up on either side by two pairs of strong arms.

  “Gotcha.” On her left, Ryan flashed her a smile.

  “Just in time,” Milo added f
rom the right.

  “It was Lucien,” she said weakly, sagging against them. “He forged the paintings, and he killed Bella when she found out. Ernesto had nothing to do with it.”

  “Lies!” Lucien shouted from the landing. “I caught her vandalizing my studio. I was just trying to stop her. Now she’s manufacturing nonsense to cover her tracks.”

  “Bethany doesn’t lie, Mr. Boucher. It’s over!” Charley charged up the stairs from where she’d been standing with Viv and Kimmy in the foyer. Lucien darted away down the hall, but Charley returned a few moments later, marching an out-of-breath Lucien in front with his arm twisted behind his back. She reached for her belt and then, realizing she only had a fake sword strapped around her waist instead of her utility belt, took off her pirate sash and bound it around Lucien’s wrists in lieu of handcuffs. “Well, you’re under arrest, anyway.”

  As Charley read Lucien his rights and led him down the stairs, he lifted his chin and stared at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact with any of them. But when he passed Ryan, he paused. “You might want to call your lawyers, Lazam. I bet you could get your money back from Simon LaFontaine.”

  “This isn’t about the money and you know it,” Ryan said coldly. “This is about the art.”

  Lucien snorted. “Art is just money in another medium,” he called over his shoulder. “A few more years in the industry and you’ll see.”

  Ryan shook his head sadly as he watched them go. “What a waste of a good artist,” he said.

  “I’m going to wait with Charley until the other cops get here. Will you be OK?” Milo asked Bethany. He looked back and forth between her and Ryan and chuckled, shaking his head. “Dumb question, never mind.”

  “It’s not dumb. I’m OK, though. Thanks for being there when it counts,” Bethany said. Then, gesturing toward Charley’s retreating back, she added, “For all of us.”

  Milo grinned, tipped his pirate hat, and jogged down the stairs.

  “Wait for me!” Viv grabbed the hem of her mermaid tail, ripped open the seam up to her thigh, and ran after him.