"Oh thank you, Max. Thank you."
"Alese, you mind if I ask you a question?"
"Go ahead."
"Why don't you want to have the auction at an auction house? We've got a famous one right here in Manors."
"After meeting with a couple, I'm just not sure I need them. Why pay them a commission to find a buyer even if they vet the bidders ahead of time? I don't think Delmar would have any trouble finding a qualified buyer."
That made sense. It was logical. It was prudent. She was probably right. She didn't need anyone's help selling that painting, but she did need the help finding a qualified buyer. I agreed with her. I was sure that the board at Delmar could do that. Maybe even a find a member willing to bid for the painting. But I also thought there was another reason. An issue with the provenance. That I thought she was trying to avoid.
"I hear ya. Why pay someone else for something when you could do it yourself?" I said.
"Exactly, Max. Well, I have to run. But thank you for your help. And for running it by the powers that be. Talk soon."
"OK, Alese. Bye."
She never heard my salutation as she disconnected immediately after talking.
"Wow," Imogen said, disconnecting the Bluetooth speaker by hitting the button again on the steering wheel.
"I know. Right?"
"She's got some nerve," Imogen said.
"What are you so angry about?"
Imogen smiled.
"I'm not angry. I find it cheeky that she would ask to host the auction at Delmar. There's a reason Max. And it's not the one she told us."
"I couldn't agree more," I said. "Can you step on it?"
"I'm driving the speed limit, Max."
"Exactly. My face is killing me, and I want to get some ice on it."
"My poor, poor baby."
"I knew you had some sympathy for me somewhere in that English heart of yours, my love. Now, press the gas pedal down. This is a sports car after all."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I iced my face and sipped on a drink while Imogen rolled her eyes at me. We were back at our house, and I was relaxing on the couch running through the events of the day. Especially the part where old man Bill whopped my ass. Needless to say, I wasn't very proud of the way things had gone down. Namely the punch that knocked me out. The yelling was fine enough. And I could even deal with his red puss spewing a rain of saliva in my face. But the punch. I'd need another Glenfiddich before I started to feel better.
I was going to have to report the incident to the board. Bill, or any employee for that matter, could not get away with speaking to a member in that fashion. Nor could he get away with punching me in the face. The upside was I would have a chance to talk to the board about Alese's proposition after I sold Bill down the river.
Imogen was sitting next to me sipping on a drink as well. Scotch and soda.
"We've got a bit of a problem, my love," I said.
She crossed her legs and leaned back.
"And what's that, Max?" she asked.
"Bill is now off limits," I said. "We can't pump him for any information. We can't confront him," I said. "He told me, and I quote, 'Stay away from me and my stuff.'"
"He was certainly clear about what he wants," she said.
"Very," I said. "But don't you see the predicament that places us in?"
"I think it's obvious."
"And?"
"Well, you're right. We can't just invite him for tea and a chat."
"Clearly," I said.
"But, he still works at Delmar, and the last I checked we were still members. So, he doesn't really have a choice dealing with us if we run into him there. Especially when we go to play golf."
"That's true," I said. "He can't avoid us at the golf course. But, he doesn't have to talk to us, and when I report the incident to the board he might not even be around."
"You have to report it. Assaulting a member is simply not acceptable."
"Especially when they get the better of you," I said.
"Max, I'm being serious."
"I am too. It's not going to be one of my finest hours explaining to a bunch of people how an old man clocked me one in the face and then knocked me out."
"Temporarily knocked you out," she said.
"I should hope so. Anything longer than temporary might have lead to permanent damage."
"On second thought, are you sure it was only for a moment?"
"Imogen! Regardless, we need to try to meet with him as soon as possible."
"Maybe with some sort of buffer between us. That way he would have to talk to us," she said.
"I like the way you think," I said.
She winked at me.
"Any idea who could be the buffer?" I asked.
"I've got an inkling."
She sipped her drink.
"Are you going to fill me in?"
She still sipped her drink. So I took a sip of mine.
"C'mon," I said, exasperated.
"OK, enough playing. I was thinking Lee Endicott. We invite him for a round of golf. Get him and Bill face-to-face. See what pans out."
"That would also send a message to Bill that we know what's going on. Put him on the defensive. I like it, my love."
"See, I'm good for something after all."
"Don't sell yourself short, you can also shoot one hell of a round of golf."
I finished my drink and took a nap. I was wiped. Getting beat up took its toll on me. When I woke up, Imogen was still downstairs working on her laptop. I felt groggy, and I also felt a bruise coming on. It wasn't going to be easy facing the world with a black-and-blue mark on my face.
"That was quick," Imogen said, looking up at me.
"Was it?"
"About an hour," she said.
She looked back at her laptop and then did a double take.
"Did you take a look at yourself in the mirror?" she asked.
"No, but I can feel it."
"You might want to take a look," she said.
I walked into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I didn't look good. There was a black-and-blue mark that had developed on my upper left cheek right below and off to the side of my eye. On top of it, I looked disheveled and tired. And that's how I felt. Tired. Tired of running. Tired of trying to solve other people's problems.
I splashed some cold water on my face, ran both of my hands through my hair, and just stared at myself. What was I doing? Running around playing detective when I should have been spending my days relaxing or working. Had I made a mistake? Had I ruined my life? One thing I knew for sure, I couldn't let Ginny know this was how I was feeling. I needed to pull myself together. Needed to get a grip. I had to walk out into the living room and act like everything was normal. Like this was what we were meant to do. Fake it until I was back to my old self.
"I see what you mean, my love," I said, back in the living room.
"Come here," she said.
I walked over to Imogen and sat down next to her.
"Are you OK?" she asked.
I wasn't OK. But I didn't realize that anyone could tell.
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine," she said. "And you don't look fine."
"I think I'm just tired. Maybe just waking up. I'm not a napper."
"You know what I mean, Max," she said.
She knew me. Could read me. There was no point lying.
"No. I'm not OK. I'm confused," I said.
"About what?"
"This. What we're doing."
"You're scaring me, Max."
She looked visibly upset.
"You don't. I mean, you're not confused about…me. Are you?"
She had read this all wrong. Maybe it was the words that I had used. Or perhaps it was the emotion I was emitting. I needed to correct this situation before we had a real misunderstanding on our hands.
"Ginny! No. No. No. I love you. I love being married. I love everything about us. No, I'm talking about thi
s private investigation stuff. You and I are better than good. We're great. Well, at least I hope we're great."
She looked relieved. She put her hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eyes.
"Listen, Max, I love you. With every single fiber of my being. You don't have to worry about that. And as for this PI stuff, we're doing a great job. You're doing a great job…"
She kept talking, but my mind was somewhere else. I don't know what had happened, but I had snapped out of it. I was OK. Heck, I was better than OK. I was great. Imogen was magical. Now we needed a plan. But first we needed dinner.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
My face looked much better the next day. Perhaps it was the scotch, or maybe it was my pity party that brought the swelling down. But if I didn't know any better, I would have sworn that the only thing that happened yesterday was a nice lunch at Delmar. Maybe old man punching power is overrated.
Imogen and I had already swung by Delmar to speak with the board about hosting Alese's auction. And, much to my shock, the board was interested. I made the proposition sound terrible. If I was being pitched the idea, I would have turned it down in a second but not these guys. Imogen had even given them the whole spiel about the authenticity of the painting, and when it came down to it, all of our hemming and hawing had zero effect. They only had one question. What was Alese willing to pay in commission for them hosting the auction? I told them that she didn't want to pay a commission. That was the point. She was trying to keep the entire sale price for herself. They listened.
Then I moved on to the Bill situation. I explained that he had verbally assaulted me and then physically assaulted me at the entrance to the club. They were mortified. They were also worried that I would press charges and possibly sue the club. I assured them that I wasn't interested in pressing charges against Bill and that I certainly didn't think that that Delmar was responsible for Bill's behavior. But I did want to make sure that Bill was punished for his actions.
After a brief chat, they decided that they would take appropriate measures to ensure that Bill was held responsible for his actions. They would bring him in for an internal disciplinary hearing and then decide what course of action should be administered. They would do that as quickly as possible.
Then they moved on to Alese. After discussing the commission conundrum amongst themselves, they came up with a work-around. They all agreed that the buyer would pay the commission. That meant that Alese would not pay a dime for selling her masterpiece. The buyer, on the other hand, would pay the hammer price plus Delmar's commission. The club was going to make millions. Like everyone else at Delmar, the club itself is all about making money.
"We've got to tell her at some point," Imogen said, over a salad.
I was eating my lunch as well, at the main restaurant at Delmar.
"I know," I said. "I still can't believe they said yes."
"I can. Money, Max. It's all about the money."
"Always is," I said. "Speaking of which, we need to set up a golf date with Endicott."
"Why don't you give him a ring after lunch?"
"Good idea. Do you think his wife plays?" I asked.
"She didn't say. She plays tennis though."
"I'll invite her. You'll have to take it easy," I said.
"Oh, Max. I'm not as competitive as you," she said.
"Please. I've seen you reduce grown men to tears."
"Only the ones that had it coming."
We finished lunch, and I called Lee Endicott. He was very excited to hear from me. Told me he was in the office today but would love to play tomorrow if I could swing it. I asked if his wife would like to join us, and he was thrilled.
"Yes, she loves to play," he said.
"Really? I'm happy to hear that," I said.
"I have a confession, Max."
"Shoot," I said.
"Tori played in college. She's damn good. So I wouldn't blame you if we didn't wager on the round."
I weighed filling Lee in on Imogen's golf skills or just surprising him when he received his ass kicking courtesy of Ginny.
"I wouldn't have it. I love some good competition," I said.
"You might be sorry," Lee said.
"Never underestimate a husband and wife golfing pair," I said.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," he said.
"I know. I was talking about Ginny and me."
I had opted for the surprise route. He was one of those guys who could stand to use a good old-fashioned smackdown administered by a woman. Might have knocked some sheen off his pearly white veneers.
Another thing that would come as a surprise to Lee was the fact that we were not plunking down two million dollars to invest in his fund. Although, that surprise was for another day. Tomorrow would be all about golf, taking his money, and fishing for information. Not to mention the look on Bill's face when we walked over to that shed. We might just have confirmation of our killer by tee off.
"Good news," I said.
"Yeah?" Imogen said.
"Get your clubs ready. We've got a match tomorrow."
"I can hardly wait," she said.
"Tori played in college. Lee warned me," I said.
That should have gotten her competitive juices flowing. She enjoyed some healthy competition every now and again. Tori didn't have a clue what she had gotten herself into.
"You don't say," Imogen said.
"As a matter of fact, I do say."
"Well she bloody well better be on her game tomorrow," she said.
"I'm sure they'll come prepared. They might even throw the match," I said.
"Why?"
"They've got two million reasons to make us happy," I said.
"You're terrible."
"Just speaking the truth, my love."
"That's what makes it so terrible."
CHAPTER THIRTY
We slept well last night. After all, we had an early tee-off time. Imogen and I were waiting in the lobby at Delmar for the arrival of Lee and Tori Endicott. I had already downed a ridiculously large cup of coffee in an effort to be as awake as I possibly could be at this ungodly hour. I would have never chosen a morning tee time, especially one this early, but this was the time that Lee had wanted, and, after all, I had to accommodate him.
Imogen looked great. She had on a cute golf skirt, tight golf shirt, and her golf shoes. I happened to look pretty darn good myself. I was decked out in cool white golf pants, a powder blue shirt, and shoes as well. I was also sporting a cool baseball cap.
"What do you think Bill is going to say when he sees us?" Imogen asked.
"Nothing. And if the Board has already spoken with him, nothing with a dash of contempt. Plus, he already knows we're coming. We're on the schedule. I'd love to take a peek in that schedule book to see how he jots down Endicott's name."
"I'll try to look," she said.
"Me too. But don't make it obvious," I said.
"Now why would I do that?" she said.
It was way too early in the morning to have any sort of banter.
"I don't know why I said that," I said.
"Wake up, Max," she said.
"I'm trying. I wish I could be a little more like you," I said.
"You'll be saying that again once we're out on the course," she said.
Eventually, Lee and Tori arrived. We greeted each other, handshakes and air kisses all around, and strolled through the clubhouse and out to the shed to check in. On our walk, Lee and I chatted. The women were busy gossiping by themselves.
"You ever play here before?" I asked.
He looked at me, his shiny white veneers glowing through his cracked lips.
"Never. I've only been here a couple of times."
"You're going to love the course," I said. "It's fun."
"Depends on how I'm shooting," he said.
I laughed. He was correct. It really did depend on how well you were playing. Fun could quickly turn to frustration.
"Let's just have a good tim
e," I said, slapping Lee on the shoulder.
He didn't seem to mind. It was clear that he would let me do anything if there was a possibility of me forking over a two-million-dollar check. He smiled, his teeth almost blinding me, and we walked toward the shed.
The four of us arrived at the golf marshal's shed. Bill was in there, busy looking down at his schedule.
"Bill," I said.
He looked up at me with regret, remorse, and anger on his face.
"Mr. Slade," he said, through gritted teeth.
I decided that I was going to play it cool. As if nothing had happened. As if this old man hadn't knocked me out. As if he wasn't about to lose his job. Luckily, my face didn't look the worse for wear. Bill would never know that he had gotten the better of me. That he had sent me down into a spiral of self-pity. At least for a few moments. All he had to hang his hat on was that he had knocked me out. He certainly knew that much. But, what he didn't know, or maybe he did, was that I knew he was in deep trouble. That he was dangerously close to being arrested for murder. That would happen when Imogen and I finished piecing this puzzle together and gathered enough evidence to hang him out to dry. Payback would indeed prove to be a bitch.
"Hi, Bill," Imogen said, cheery.
"We've got a tee time," I said.
"I see that, Mr. Slade," Bill said.
"Have you met Mr. Endicott? He'll be joining us. And this is Tori, his wife," I said.
This was what Imogen and I had been waiting for. We wanted to see Bill's reaction to seeing Lee Endicott and Lee's reaction when he saw Bill.
Bill gave a quick glance over at Lee and Tori and then looked back at his appointment book. Then he noted something with a pencil.
"One or two carts?" he asked.
That was it? That was barely a reaction at all. Lee just stood there with a similar stone-faced but relaxed look. There hadn't been any indication that these two knew each other in the slightest.
I looked at Lee, suggesting that he decide how many carts we would take.
"Two," he said to Bill.
"We'll ride together, and the ladies can take their own," he said to me.
The Killing Green Page 10