Chapter 7
Ethan stepped back and watched Olivia bustle around the kitchen. On the counter, her phone buzzed, so he slyly glanced over his shoulder at the screen. Really? Hmm….
He picked up the slim rose-gold phone, clicking on the message, which opened a dating app. She’d received a notice that one of the gentleman on the site might be of interest to her. He winced at the photo.
“This one is not for you,” he muttered.
“What’s that? Oh! Don’t look at that! Mr. Maxwell!”
“Ethan.” He handed her the phone, but she couldn’t take it because she held the hot casserole dish with mitted hands. “Sorry. I’m a curious man by nature. But this one is definitely a no.”
“Why do you say that?” She set the dish on the stove and leaned over to get a look at the photo. It featured a buzz-cut blonde with blue eyes who pointed his finger at the camera, as if to say “Gotcha.” “He’s handsome.”
“He’s also proficient in kayaking and beer-guzzling. Is that really an attractive attribute to note? Beer-guzzling? Why not a beer connoisseur? I’ve never looked at these dating apps before.”
“I’m not much for a beer drinker. Swipe left,” she told him.
“I…” He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he ran his finger toward the left and the photo disappeared. “Ah! As easy as that, to dismiss a prospective lover? Remind me to never sign up for such an exercise in humiliation and angst.”
“I don’t think you’re the type who needs such an app, are you?” She nodded toward the counter. “Sit down.”
“I may be. You never know.” He sat before the formica counter. Stacks of books and magazines adorned with celebrities’ faces had been shoved aside. “But you, on the other hand, are a surprise. One would think you’d have men banging down your door.”
“There are.” She set a plate of steaming macaroni cheese before him. “That’s the problem.”
“Ah, yes. We men are visual creatures. The fact that you have a brain doesn’t often matter to them, am I correct?”
“You are correct.”
“Then perhaps you might try a service that doesn’t bill itself as Date Faces?”
She beamed at him. “You could also be correct on that one.”
* * * *
Ethan polished off his second helping of macaroni cheese, which pleased Olivia immensely. She didn’t have many friends in the building, save Arthur across the hall, but that old man was a player and always had a woman over. And generally they were at least ten or twenty years his junior. He was rarely available for dinner, even a free one.
Feeling satisfied that someone appreciated her cooking, she nudged the plate of pesto toast nearer to him, and Ethan obliged her by taking the last piece.
So he’d noticed earlier that the Byam Shaw was a forgery and had chosen not to mention it? It disturbed her that he was not forthcoming and likely keeping things from her. Because he wanted all the credit for solving this case? She shouldn’t be so concerned about such things, but now, more than ever, this case was important to her. And to the survival of the Arts and Antiquities Unit.
“I like the peas. A nice surprise amongst the creamy cheese and noodles,” Ethan said. “Do you mind if I have more?”
“Please, help yourself. If you eat this heartily, I’ll have you over every Wednesday night.”
“Don’t tempt me. I’m already considering marking it as a regular event in my calendar. So…about the fact that we both believe the Byam Shaw is a forgery. I must apologize. I should have said something in the forensics lab. Wasn’t sure how you’d react to such a conjecture. It always takes me a few days to learn how to work with a new client. Give me a pass, eh?”
“Of course. But you don’t need to check your every step around me. I like a healthy debate, and want to hear everything you have to offer.”
“Agreed.” He lifted his wine goblet, and she met it with her own. “To an agreeable partnership. And to uncovering exactly what the hell is going on with these vandalized paintings. If I have to see another hasty pudding, I’m sure I’ll go mad. Such a smear on the hallowed halls of the esteemed Tate Britain. Almost akin to placing a Warhol next to a Rembrandt.”
“You don’t care for pop art?”
“Pop art has its place. But I have never been able to embrace Warhol. I’m a Pre-Raphaelite man through and through. I also adore Titian’s beauties. Though I would never limit my interests.”
“I like the Pre-Raphaelites as well. Also, Michelangelo and DaVinci. But I really swoon over the fifteenth-century monastic works.”
“Illuminated manuscripts?”
“Yes. All that work with gold leaf. It’s gorgeous. And the intensity of work and man hours it must have required. Mmm…gives me what they call an art orgasm.”
“An—” Ethan seemed to choke on his food. He quickly took a swig of wine. “I can’t say I’ve heard that term before. They call it such? Who is ‘they?’ “
“They? I’m not going to explain.” She flashed a teasing smile. “It’ll give you something to think about on the way home tonight.”
“Indeed. And I do enjoy a good puzzle.” He winked.
They’d tiptoed into some flirtation, but Olivia didn’t mind. She had encouraged it. It was officially after hours, right?
“Tell me how art grabbed your interest. What led to your current position with Scotland Yard?”
Olivia pushed aside her plate and leaned her elbows on the table. She noticed the clock on the stove. It was already nine o’clock? It had been a long day. Spent mostly with this man. Yet only now was she beginning to feel comfortable around him. But not comfortable enough to explain the great art heist of the fifth grade.
“It may have been when I was a teenager. School trip to the National Gallery. That was the first time I’d seen the paintings in person that I’d only seen in books. It was an amazing leap, from page to the real thing. Almost as if my world had changed. Well, it did change that day. Those paintings were alive. They breathed out a glorious history. Someone had touched the canvas, put paints down, and created stories. It’s difficult to imagine all that when looking at a small, poorly colored print in a textbook.”
“That it is. Did you study art in college?”
“I did. All of it—art history, sculpture, fashion, photography, architecture. But forensics and art fraud fascinated me the most. I was recruited when I worked at the Hawhouse gallery to assist on an Arts and Antiquities case. You know Scotland Yard deputizes art directors and others in the field who have particular skills and knowledge.”
“I do. Very wise on the part of Scotland Yard. And easy on their budget. But you are officially a detective constable now?”
“Not yet. Merely a constable. I’m hoping for a promotion to detective constable should this case be solved. But, as I’ve mentioned, my boss has been trying to convince me to work in dispatch or even become his secretary.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “To bring him his daily tea?”
Olivia nodded. “Exactly.”
“Your skills and knowledge would surely be wasted. I hope you told your boss where to stick that suggestion.”
She bowed her head. So she may feel like a strong, powerful woman most of the time, but expressing it to others, especially her boss, could only get her in trouble.
“He knows I do my best work with the Art and Antiquities Unit. Art is all that matters to me. I feel an affinity toward art. No one has a right to fake or forge the great masters.”
“I would still argue that it is a great compliment.”
“No, it’s a cheat. Doesn’t the forger have his own talent? Originality?”
“It does require immense talent to mimic the masters,” Ethan offered.
“It also requires a devious mind. Forgers don’t impress me. But catching them in the act? I live for that.” She took his cleaned plate. “There’s no more macaroni cheese, but I do have some apple tarts in the fridge if you’re ready for dessert? Warmed up with a scoop of vanilla gelato I bought from Lick?”
“You may never be rid of me. Yes, please. Bring it on. Direct me to the loo, will you?”
“Down the hall and to the left. Uh…don’t look at all the bras and stockings scattered about.”
“I shall endeavor to do my business with my eyes closed.”
Olivia laughed. “Please don’t!”
She set tea on the table before the sofa and prepared him a slice of apple tart. She cut herself a slice, too, with extra vanilla gelato. She was not a woman to deprive herself of life’s treats. And she’d always considered men a treat.
Weird that that came to her now. Like she could only have a man if she were a good girl and had earned that pleasure. What was wrong with her? And really, did she need a dating app? There was a handsome man in her bathroom. A man who was very attractive, smart, and…someone who, if she got involved with him, could mess up her chance to earn respect at work. No, she mustn’t think of Ethan as anything more than a partner.
But the flirtation was fun, and it fed a hungry part of her soul. Oh, she’d not worry about it. Just let things go as they naturally would. She barely knew the man. Maybe he flirted with everyone.
“You’ve begun something on the ceiling in your bedroom?” he asked as he returned and took a seat on the sofa, zooming in on the steaming plate of dessert she’d placed on the coffee table.
“You were in my bedroom?”
“I am a curious man. And your bathroom door opens right across from the bedroom. I noticed the high ceilings and the ladder and ducked my head in. Don’t worry; I didn’t linger on your unmentionables. Not too long, anyway.” He smiled behind a bite of tart. “That’s a gorgeous Parrish blue you’ve painted on the ceiling.”
“Yes, but my dreams are much bigger than my abilities. I had thought to do a night sky with stars and perhaps some vines climbing along an open sky roof, but trompe l’oeil is beyond me. I’ll have to settle for the blue ceiling and get the ladder back to the building super soon.”
He studied her from over the rim of the teacup, and Olivia shifted on the chair. The man was so direct. She could feel what he was thinking. That she was certainly a strong, proud woman on the outside, but inside she still sought approval from others.
“Your thoughts are very loud,” she said.
He winked. “Then I need not speak them. This tart is mad delicious. Next Wednesday, you say?”
She laughed and settled onto the chair across from him. “Sure.”
* * * *
Olivia strolled down the halls of Scotland Yard, hiking her bag over her right shoulder. It contained all the files she and Ethan had pored over last evening. And their assessment? The vandal could very likely be targeting forgeries. Which only made their job more confusing. She did like a challenge, though.
Ethan had left her flat last night with a promise that he was serious about returning for Wednesday night macaroni cheese, and she had been delighted. She liked the man. Despite his seeming stiffness, he made her feel comfortable and not so self-conscious that she had to perform. That happened so rarely. But she wouldn’t sabotage herself by getting involved with him. That would only confirm the department’s idea of her value and worth. Sleeping with the consultant from Interpol? How just like a woman.
But she wasn’t so much desperate for a man, as hungry for one. She wasn’t looking for something serious. Just some hot and lusty sex. Her body craved skin contact, and her soul needed to devour another soul’s want.
Ha! She was getting a little weird about her needs. Best to increase her search on the dating app. But only if Ethan Maxwell approved of her choice? He’d been right about the one last night. What was her type? She wasn’t sure. She’d spent the last year focusing on climbing the ladder at Scotland Yard and neglected to set aside time for herself. It was time to swipe right on the app and dive into the pool.
She opened her office door and found Ethan leaning against her desk, sipping tea. He nodded. “Good morning. I’m an early riser. I hope you don’t mind me showing myself in.”
“How long have you been here?” She dropped her bag on the corner of her desk and tried not to show her annoyance that he’d been in her office alone.
“Ten minutes? Perfect way to start the day with a bit of reflection and tea. I didn’t bring you any. Assumed you were more of a chai sort of woman. They didn’t have that in the canteen.”
“No, and much as I continue to request it, they ignore me. Denise down the hall keeps a supply in her lower left desk drawer. Here are the files. I’d like to…” Take a few moments to settle in and get into work mode, but with him here, that was off the table. “This office is so small for laying out files and going over them.”
“And I’ve received a call from Camila Wright over at the museum. The gallery’s still blocked off, but they intend to reopen it to the public this afternoon. Before they do that, I thought we could take another look without all the police milling about. See if there’s anything we may have missed in the ruckus.”
“Then it sounds like we’re on the move.” She went to pick up her bag, but Ethan set down the tea cup and grabbed it. He opened the door and waved her to go first.
She didn’t mind the constant running for the job, but it was a little disconcerting to have a partner so proficient, polite, and on time. That had never happened before. She could get used to it.
But best not to get her hopes up.