Art Hound (Dev Haskell Private Investigator Book 16) (Dev Haskell - Private Investigator) by Mike Faricy

Author:Mike Faricy [Faricy, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-04-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Forty-Nine

Aaron rang my doorbell a little after four. “Oh, good, hoping I’d catch you home.”

“Where was I going to go, remember? I’m without a set of wheels.”

“Mind if I bring the world’s most unhappy guy from Paris in?”

I glanced over his shoulder at the unmarked car in front of my house. I could feel the tension as the guy in the passenger seat turned, looked at me, and then plastered a disgusted frown on his face.

“Whoa, that’s one unhappy camper.”

“I can’t really blame him.”

“Yeah, bring him in. Think he’d like some coffee?”

Aaron’s back was to me. He was waving his arm in an attempt to signal his passenger to come in. If the guy noticed, you sure couldn’t tell. Finally, Aaron stepped off the front porch. The guy turned and faced him when he was about two steps away from the car, frowned, then climbed out of the passenger seat.

“Dev,” Aaron said, climbing back onto the porch. “I’d like you to meet Monsieur Darcel Renard from the Musée d’Orsay in Paris.”

“Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Renard,” I said and extended my hand. He seemed to grudgingly take it, but really didn’t squeeze back as I shook his hand. “Please, please, come on in,” I said, then held the door for them.

“Dev,” Aaron said, “Monsieur Renard has just flown in from Paris to examine the forgeries we acquired. I’d like to show him the canvases that were left behind here.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ve got them up in the guest room. Come on,” I said and led the way up the stairs. “I checked them all earlier this morning after you dropped me off. They’re all empty. I mean, there’s nothing underneath the splatter canvas. I’m guessing he had these just sitting around, and then once he finished another forgery, he would pull off one of these canvases and tack it over the forgery.” I opened the door to my guest room and extended my hand to the two of them. Aaron stepped into the room then moved to the side so Renard could get to the stack of canvases leaning against the far wall.

He frowned as he approached and picked one of them up. The lower left-hand corner of the canvas where I had pulled the staples flapped as he lifted the painting. He held the canvas at arm’s length, shook his head disgustedly, then looked at the two of us and said, “You think this is absolute shit. No?”

“Absolutely. Shit. I mean, yes,” Aaron said.

“As you can see, they’re all like that,” I said.

He pulled a small magnifying glass from his pocket and examined the corner of the painting, then stuck his bottom lip out, nodded, and said, “Actually, despite what you think, this is quite good.”

“Good?” Aaron and I said together.

Renard nodded.

“That splatter shit? Any five-year-old child could do that in about five minutes,” I said.

“I think not,” Renard said, flashing a cold smile then turned to Aaron. “I should next like to see the work you have arrested.”

“Yeah, okay, sure, they’re being held down at our station, in the evidence room.

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