Heads You Win

“The Empress Catherine herself would have been proud of your sister,” said Alex. “She knew the only way I was going to see the Warhol was if I spent the night with her.”

“Five hundred thousand,” said Lawrence. “An expensive one-night stand. However, I’ve already been working on a plan to make sure she pays back every penny. Let’s have supper.”

*   *   *

Lawrence waited until Alex had checked over the questions a second time. He only added the words insurance company? before he handed the crib sheet back. Lawrence nodded, took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed an overseas number.

He once again studied the list as he waited for one of them to answer the phone. He had chosen his time carefully: 12 noon in Boston, 6 p.m. in Nice. They should be back from lunch at La Colombe d’Or, but not yet have left for the casino in Monte Carlo.

“Hello?” said a familiar voice.

“Hi, Eve, it’s me. Thought I’d bring you up to date on the Warhol.”

“Have the police found it?”

“Yes, it was hanging above the mantelpiece in Karpenko’s apartment in Brighton Beach. They could hardly miss it.”

“So is it now safely back in the Jefferson room?”

“I’m afraid not. The Boston police department decided to have the picture valued before they pressed charges, and, here’s the surprise, it turns out to be a copy.”

“Why are you surprised?” asked Evelyn, a little too quickly.

“What do you mean?” asked Lawrence innocently.

“He obviously substituted a copy for the real thing. My bet is the original will have been smuggled out of the country. It’s probably somewhere in Russia by now.”

Somewhere in the south of France is more likely, thought Lawrence. “The insurance company agree with you, Eve,” said Lawrence, checking his list, “and they wondered when you’d be back in Boston, as you were the last person to see Karpenko before he left for New York.”

“I wasn’t planning on returning for some months,” said Evelyn. “I assume the police have arrested your friend Karpenko.”

“They did, but he’s out on bail. He claims he gave you a check for five hundred thousand dollars to invest with Todd in a start-up company, and you offered him the picture as security.”

“The exact opposite is true,” said Evelyn. “He begged me to invest some money in his pizza company, and I refused and sent him packing.”

“But he’s produced the check,” said Lawrence. “So it would be helpful if you could come and tell the police your version of the story.”

“My version of the story?” said Evelyn, her voice rising. “Whose side are you on, Lawrence?”

“Yours of course, Eve, but the police are refusing to press charges until they’ve interviewed you.”

“Then they’ll have to wait, won’t they?” said Evelyn, slamming down the phone.

Lawrence replaced the receiver, turned to Alex, and said, “I have a feeling she won’t be returning for some time,” a broad smile appearing on his face.

“But you’ve lost your Warhol,” said Alex.

“I confess I’ll miss Jackie,” said Lawrence, “but not Evelyn.”

*   *   *

“I only heard one side of the conversation,” said Todd Halliday, handing his wife a glass of whiskey after she’d slammed the phone down. “Am I right in thinking that Lawrence now realizes the Warhol’s a copy, and Karpenko’s produced the check?”

“Yes,” said Evelyn, emptying the glass. “I forgot that checks were returned to the issuing bank.”

“But it was made out to cash, so they won’t be able to trace it back to you.”

“True, but if Lawrence were ever to discover—”

“If he does,” said Todd, “we’ll just have to revert to plan B.”

*   *   *

When Alex returned to New York, he had to explain to his mother why he’d come back with a check for five hundred thousand dollars even though he’d told Lawrence the Warhol was a copy. He was surprised by her only question.

“Have you asked Anna to marry you yet?”

“Mama, I’ve only known her for a week.”

“Your father proposed to me twelve days after we met.”

“Then I’ve still got another five days,” said Alex, smiling.

*   *   *

Alex stepped off the train at 14th Street just after midday, and headed straight for Lombardi’s. He took a seat, but didn’t order anything. When the manager appeared he handed him the contract. Paolo sat down and took his time checking over every clause. There were no surprises. Everything Alex had promised had been included, so he happily signed on the dotted line.

“Welcome on board, partner,” said Alex as they shook hands. “You’ll be managing Elena One, while I concentrate on getting Elena Two up and running.”

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” said Paolo.

“See you at five to eight on Monday morning, because it’s high time you met my mother. Mind you, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t before you signed the contract. I’ve got to run. I’m having lunch with someone I can’t afford to be late for.”

“So you found her?”

“Sure did.”

Alex arrived at Le Bernardin only moments before Anna appeared.

“How did Boston go?” was her first question after they placed their orders.