Painted Ladies

Table of Contents

 

THE SPENSER NOVELS

 

 

 

 

 

THE JESSE STONE NOVELS

 

 

THE SUNNY RANDALL NOVELS

 

 

THE VIRGIL COLE/ EVERETT HITCH NOVELS

 

ALSO BY ROBERT B. PARKER

Double Play
Gunman’s Rhapsody
All Our Yesterdays
A Year at the Races
(with Joan H. Parker)
Perchance to Dream
Poodle Springs
(with Raymond Chandler)
Love and Glory
Wilderness
Three Weeks in Spring
(with Joan H. Parker)
Training with Weights
(with John R. Marsh)

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Copyright © 2010 by The Estate of Robert B. Parker

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Published simultaneously in Canada

 

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Parker, Robert B., 1932-2010.
Painted ladies / Robert B. Parker.
p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-44387-3

1. Spenser (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Private investigators—Massachusetts—
Fiction. 3. Art thefts—Investigation—Fiction. 4. Art thieves—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3566.A686P
813’.54—dc22

 

 

 

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

M
y first client of the day (and of the week, truth be known) came into my office on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving and sat in one of my client chairs. He was medium-height and slim, wearing a brown tweed suit, a blue paisley bow tie, and a look of satisfaction.

“You’re Spenser,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” I said.

“I am Dr. Ashton Prince,” he said.

He handed me a card, which I put on my desk.

“How nice,” I said.

“Excuse me?”

“What can I do for you, Dr. Prince.”

“I am confronted with a matter of extreme sensitivity,” he said.

I nodded.

“May I count on your discretion?” he said.

“Sure,” I said.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“I can tell,” I said.

He frowned slightly. Less in disapproval than in uncertainty.

“Well,” he said, “may I?”

“Count on my discretion?”

“Yes!”

“At the moment, I don’t have anything to be discreet about,” I said. “But I would be if I did.”

He stared at me for a moment, then smiled.

“I see,” he said. “You’re attempting to be funny.”

“ ‘Attempting’?” I said.

“No matter,” Prince said. “But I need to know you are capable of taking my issues seriously.”

“I’d be in a better position to assess that,” I said, “if you told me what your issues were.”

He nodded slowly to himself.

“I was warned that you were given to self-amusement,” he said. “I guess there’s no help for it. I am a professor of art history at Walford University. And I am a forensic art consultant in matters of theft and forgery.”

And pleased about it.

“Is there such a matter before us?” I said.

He took in some air and let it out audibly.

“There is,” he said.

“And it requires discretion,” I said.

“Very much.”

“You’ll get all I can give you,” I said.

“All you can give me?”

“Anything,” I said, “that your best interest, and my self-regard, will allow.”

“Your ‘self-regard’?”

“I try not to do things that make me think ill of myself.”

“My God,” Prince said. “I mean, that’s a laudable goal, I suppose. But you are a private detective.”

“All the more reason for vigilance,” I said.

He took another deep breath. He nodded slowly.

“There is a painting,” he said, “by a seventeenth-century Dutch artist named Frans Hermenszoon.”

“
Lady with a Finch,
” I said.

“How on earth did you know that?” Prince said.

“Only Hermenszoon painting I’ve ever heard of.”

“He painted very few,” Prince said. “Hermenszoon died at age twenty-six.”

“Young,” I said.

“Rather,” Prince said. “But
Lady with a Finch
was a masterpiece. Is a masterpiece. It belongs to the Hammond Museum. And last week it was stolen.”

“Heard from the thieves?” I said.

“Yes.”

“Ransom?” I said.

“Yes.”

“And if you bring any cops in, they’ll destroy the painting,” I said.

“Yes.”

“So what do you want from me?” I said.

“The Hammond wants the whole matter handled entirely, ah, sotto voce. They have asked me to handle the exchange.”

“The money for the painting,” I said.

“Yes, and I am, frankly, uneasy. I want protection.”

“Me,” I said.

“The chief of the Walford campus police asked a friend at the Boston Police Department on my behalf, and you were recommended.”

“I’m very popular there,” I said.

“Will you do it?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Like that?” Prince said.

“Sure,” I said.

“What do you charge?”

I told him. He raised his eyebrows.

“Well,” he said. “I’m sure they will cover it.”

“The museum.”

“Yes,” he said. “And if they won’t cover it all, I’ll make up the difference out of pocket.”