Page 72 of Burning Caine
“Grazie. I’ll return it soon, I promise.”
Tucking it under my arm, I returned to Samantha, who was squinting at her phone, using the site anyway.
“You get more flies with honey, bella, than you do with snapping fingers and sharp voices.” I held the laptop up to show her, and she shot me a teasing sneer.
She evaluated the room and found a table allowing her to keep her back to the wall. I pulled up next to her, draping my arm around her chair as she logged in.
“So, what is this?”
“You should know.” Eyes down, her fingers flew while she spoke. “Protection System for Cultural Heritage. Interpol. The Italian Carabinieri—” She nudged me with her leg without skipping a beat in her words or her fingers. “—partnered with a ton of other countries to create this massive database of stolen cultural heritage items.”
“How do you have a login to an Interpol website for stolen artwork?” A series of thoughts flew through my brain. Everything she had told me about ARCA, Lara Croft, and things she had said about her ability to handle herself physically. There was a side to this woman I didn’t know, yet wanted to desperately.
But, if she were so intent on tracking this random piece down, what would she do if she found out my secret about her burned painting?
“Long story.” She performed search after search, convinced she would find something, like a woman possessed. I took out my phone and tried my own web search. Three sites later, and I couldn’t contain my pride in her.
“You are brilliant, Samantha.” I showed her the results on my phone. A news article about the painting being stolen twelve months ago. She snatched it from me and shot out of her seat.
“Goddammit! I knew it I’d seen it somewhere!” She smacked my shoulder. “I could kiss you!”
Before I could react, tell her she should or tease her—saying I was not interested— she was gone. With my phone. Waving a finger for me to take care of the laptop. I returned it and joined her, as she was showing our information to the coordinator.
“The provenance documents were faked,” she was saying, leaning around the coordinator’s laptop and pointing at the screen. When Margaret saw me, she paled.
“Dr. Ferraro, I’m so sorry. I assure you this is not the type of—”
I held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I understand. We are all lucky Ms. Caine was here this evening.”
Watching the two of them discuss the painting, seeing the intensity in Samantha’s eyes, I fell harder for her. She didn’t simply understand my world, she was part of it. Papa would love her.
Once they had finished, one of the attendants removed the painting from its display, and they contacted the authorities.
“Impressive again.” I offered her my elbow, which she took. She clutched my arm; however, a darkness had fallen over her features.
Once we were back in the ballroom, she finally spoke. “You know what pisses me off the most? It was in the news, the police were involved, but for some unknown reason, it didn’t make it into one of those databases.”
“Why does that make you so angry?”
“Because the team in there would have checked. Those things exist for a reason.” She huffed, squeezing my arm tighter. “Or not. Maybe they wouldn’t have. This gala was a small enough auction.”
I stopped and turned to look at her. “But you found it. This is a good thing. You should be proud.”
“You know what’s even worse?”
I shook my head.
“The coordinator’s screen said the painting’s appearance here was arranged by Mason’s Gallery.”
“Why is that worse?”
“They had the burned Chagall last year. If there’s something sketchy going on with Mason’s Gallery…” She trailed off, mouth hanging open, while she stared at me. “I need to interview them. Remember I told you my theory onLes amoureuxbeing stolen and replaced? What if that happened while it was at Mason’s? What if this isn’t a one-time thing?”
My stomach dropped. My parents had first seen it at Mason’s. What if she found out it had been purchased? My lie would be revealed.
Her eyes continued darting back and forth and she tapped a finger on her clutch, lost in thought.
I tucked the arm she held tight against my side to get her attention, and her eyes snapped back to me. “Are you in a better mood now? We can stay?”