Genius by Kellerman Jesse

Author:Kellerman, Jesse [Kellerman, Jesse]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: G.P. Putnam's Sons
Published: 2008-03-23T04:00:00+00:00

KEVIN HOLLISTER CALLED ME BACK from Vail, where he was enjoying an unseasonably early snowfall.

"Eighteen inches of fresh powder. As close as it gets to perfect. God's country." He sounded out of breath. "I'll send a plane, you'll be on the slopes by noon."

As much as I liked to ski, I couldn't stand up quickly without feeling like I'd been shot in the face. I told him I was under the weather.

"Next year, then. I'm having a birthday party at the house. My ex-wife put in a kitchen that can cook for two hundred. There are twelve ovens and I can't even make toast. I'm having"—here he named a celebrity chef— "cater the whole thing. You'll be there." He was huffing and puffing now, and I heard a faint noise, like Velcro.

"Are you skiing?" I asked.

"We are," he said.

"I hope you're on a headset."

"My jacket has an integrated microphone."

I wondered who else he had with him. His interior designer, probably, or some other special lady friend two decades his junior. That's who my father would have had.

I told him our conversation could wait until he got back to New York.

"I'm traveling until after New Year's. Better now."

"It's about the drawing."

"Drawing."

"The Cracke?"

"Aha, right." He sniffled. "You know, you're the second person this week to ask about that piece."

"Really."

"Yes. I had long conversation about it, just a few days ago, in fact."

"Who with?" I asked. He didn't hear me.

"Hello? Ethan?" "

Hi."

"Ethan. Are you there."

"I'm here. Can you—"

"Ethan? Hello? Shit. Hello? Fuck. Piece of shit."

He hung up.

"I need to get a new system," he said when he called back. "This thing's always breaking. What was it you were saying?"

"I wanted to know about the drawing."

"What about it."

"I'm wondering if you might be interested in selling it back to me."

"Why." Instantly his voice went cold. "Someone made you a better offer?"

"No. No. Not at all. I just feel a little regretful, is all, breaking up the piece the way I did. That section you have is the center, after all, and I think the integrity of the work should be preserved."

"You had no problem breaking it up before."

"Fair enough. But having had some time to think it over, I've changed my mind."

"Out of curiosity, how much are you offering me?"

I quoted purchase price plus ten percent. "That's not a bad return for one month."

"I've had plenty of better months than that," he said. "Fifteen, then."

"You seem like you're on a mission," he said. "And while I'd love to see where this goes, unfortunately for you, I'm a man of my word. The piece is spoken for."

"Pardon me?"

"I sold it."

I was dumbstruck.

"Hello?" he said. "Are you there?"

"I'm here."

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you. . . . Who's the buyer?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Kevin."

"I'm sorry about that, I truly am. You know me, I'd love to tell you. But the buyer was very specific in wanting to remain anonymous."

He sounded more like an art dealer than I'd thought possible. Marilyn had created a monster.

"What did you get for it," I asked, expecting the same answer.

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