The Rich and the Dead (18 page)

A few minutes later, Javier rushed into the kitchen with the thin man following behind. He no longer had the briefcase and was looking slightly flushed, a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead. Upon seeing the baby, he let out a yawp of delight before sweeping the child up into his arms.

“
¡Pero que precioso bebe!
” he said as he tossed the delighted baby up into the air. “What a beautiful baby boy,” he repeated in English. Then, in an instant, he turned to Lila and planted a big kiss on her lips. Lila was shocked.

“You and I should have us one of these,” he said to her.

Lila blinked at him, unable to say anything.
Who is this guy?
she wondered.

“Come on, Camilla.” Javier grabbed her hand as she stood up from the chair. “Let's get back to the city. We'll have to wait on seeing the sculptures. He didn't have what I thought he would.”

During the drive back to his North Miami gallery, while Lila was trying to make sense of it all, Javier chattered on endlessly. About his plans for Art Basel Miami Beach, which was coming up in December. About the forthcoming gallery expansion and how he was trying to get Cindy Sherman to let him exhibit her newest works.

“You should buy a Cindy Sherman,” he said and then gasped when Lila told him she didn't know who that was. His energy was positively electric. He was a bundle of fidgets and smiles. Whatever shady dealings he had conducted, they had been to his liking.

The car pulled off the highway, heading down the empty streets of Miami's abandoned warehouse sector. “So what was in that case?” Lila asked.

“Money. Bribery money specifically. Mexican customs officials need a lot of, let's say, convincing to let Mayan artifacts go across the border.”

“Is it illegal?”

“Don't act like such an innocent. I know you're smarter than that. Most of the things you see in a museum got there by way of war and plunder. The art world is just as dirty as any other business.”

“But why did you bring me?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, I do suppose I owe you an explanation. That man you met today is old-school Mexican, which means he didn't take too kindly to the rumors he heard about me. Specifically my appetite for cabana boys. So I told him you were my girlfriend.”

“That explains the kiss,” Lila said, finally understanding.

“Yes, the kiss. Be sure not to tell Dylan,” he said in a teasing voice. “The last thing I need is to be challenged to a duel.”

The SUV pulled into a small alley behind the Javier Martinez Gallery. Javier got out of the car, and Lila followed him into the back entrance. He placed his hand on a scanner, then entered a ten-digit code into the key pad before inserting a key in a lock. Lila made a note of the two cameras that were mounted by the door. Saying that this place was heavily secured would be putting it mildly.

After the massacre, Lila's team of forensic accountants had gone over the businesses of Javier and all his known associates with a fine-tooth comb. Everything came up clean. But after what she'd seen today, Lila felt more certain than ever that the rumors about the suspicious nature of his wealth were true.

“Let's sit for a minute in my office,” Javier said. “I want to show you a catalog of Cindy Sherman. She's so hot right now. Her prints are very expensive, but I know they'll only appreciate in value.”

He walked across the room to a large bookshelf, standing with his back to her. “I know it's somewhere around here,” he muttered.

Lila checked the room for cameras. There were none. People like Javier tended to keep their most personal spaces camera- and bug-free, so as not to incriminate themselves if the information got into the wrong hands. She eyed his computer. In preparation for a moment like this, Lila had been carrying a device no bigger than a thumb drive that could make an exact clone of a hard drive in two minutes. Teddy had included it in the suitcase he'd sent back in time, and now she finally had a chance to use it. Whatever Javier was up to, she had a feeling that there'd be at least some record of it on his computer.

Javier quickly found the Cindy Sherman catalog, handed it to Lila, then settled behind his elegant antique desk. As she flipped through the color-saturated photos, one of the gallery girls poked her head in the door.

“Mr. Martinez?” The girl wore a black sheath dress, a bun on the top of her head, and bright red lipstick. She looked to Lila like a child playing dress-up. “There's a man who has a question about the de Kooning.”

Javier sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Allison. I'll be there in a moment.” The gallery girl left, and Javier wearily rose to his feet. After his buzzing frenetic energy, he seemed to be hitting a low. “Never once in my life has a walk-in bought a painting. Yet I'm expected to spend time with every idiot who sniffs around this place. Give me a moment.”

Lila stayed seated, wanting to seem engrossed in the catalog she was perusing, as Javier headed to the gallery's main room. He turned back toward her. “Camilla, darling, are you coming?”

“Actually, I really love these photographs. Can I stick around? Talk about getting one of these for me?”

A flash of concern washed over Javier's face, but then his countenance relaxed. “Fine. Of course. I'll have Allison bring you in a glass of something cool, and we'll talk details in a moment.”

Javier closed the office door, and Lila held her breath as she listened for his footsteps retreating down the hall. With her drive at the ready, she leaped up and bent under the desk to insert it into the computer tower.

Right then, the door opened. Lila held her breath. She was caught with her head under the desk. She popped back up, locking eyes with the young girl, who had a glass of perspiring white wine in her hand.

“Ms. Dayton?” Allison said with a confused look in her eyes.

“Thank you, dear,” Lila said coolly, taking the glass from the girl. “I love this desk of Javier's. I was just looking to see if it was an original.” Lila took a few steps back, pretending to admire the desk. “It really is an extraordinary piece.”

“Yes! It is lovely,” Allison said. “It's ebonized walnut, from the Louis XVI period. Quite rare. Shall I tell Javier you're interested?”

“I'll tell him myself.”

With that the girl nodded and left the room. Lila looked at the drive, which was flashing blue, meaning it was done downloading. She removed it from the computer and tucked it into her bra for safekeeping just as Javier walked back into his office.

“What a monumental waste of time. De Kooning! That man couldn't afford a ticket to a museum, let alone a four-point-two-million-dollar masterpiece.” Javier collapsed into his chair with a disgusted exhale. “So, my dear,” he said, regaining his composure. “See anything that catches your fancy?”

He paused and looked her dead in the eye. “Aside from my desk, of course.”

CHAPTER 17

T
HE FOLLOWING WEEK
Effie took off for Thanksgiving in New York City.

“I'll spend some time with my family. But other than that it'll be just another shopping and spa-ing trip, my dear. I usually do it every month, but you've been such a welcome distraction that I haven't found it necessary. But my roots!
Quelle horreur!
They're ridiculous now.”

Effie pointed, with her face twisted into a repulsed grimace, toward her hairline, which showed a barely perceptible difference in color between her light golden locks and her slightly less golden roots. “I can't trust any of these South Beach queens with my hair. You and I know there's only one person who can do the right blond, and that's Oscar. You do go to Oscar Blandi, right?” she asked, glancing back at Lila, who merely nodded. “Besides, you don't need me anymore. Now you can rely on Mr. Rhodes's company. Have fun!”

Lila had told Effie about her date with Dylan, and the long kiss that ended the night. Recounting the details over drinks by the pool, Lila had allowed herself, for the first time, to enjoy the feeling. For one moment, everything felt normal. She was just a girl telling her friend about a boy.

But the truth was so much more complicated than that.

And so Lila waved good-bye to Effie, thankful for a break from her host's oversight. For the last few days, Effie had been acting withdrawn and taciturn. She was constantly retreating behind closed doors to make surreptitious, whispered phone calls, which Lila had “happened” upon, forcing Effie to skitter away. Lila suspected that this trip was more than just family time and spa-ing.

However, now that Effie was out of town, Lila could momentarily shed the skin of Camilla Dayton and hunker down on her laptop to go over the information from Javier's hard drive. She needed to devote her days to the investigation, not Effie's social calendar.

She spent the next few days sitting under an umbrella by the pool, makeup off and hair undone, combing through the mountains of files from Javier's computer.

On her third morning, just as frustration was beginning to consume her over finding nothing, she heard someone call her name from far away.

Lila glanced up to see Dylan's boat pulling up to Effie's dock. She closed her laptop with a smile and hurried across the lawn to greet him.

He tied up his boat and walked toward her. The moment they met, he threw his arms around her.

“You've been hiding from me,” he whispered into her ear. “So I thought I'd drop by. Perhaps take you on a sail?”

She shook her head no, but when she looked into his expectant face, she heard herself say, “Yes.”

She dashed into the guesthouse, hid her laptop, and put on a bathing suit. As she reemerged, she heard the roar of engines. Looking toward the dock, she saw an enormous red, white, and blue speedboat idling next to Dylan's sailboat. Alexei Dortzovich, the Russian billionaire she'd met at the club, was at the helm. He and Dylan were talking. About what, she couldn't hear over the deafening engine noise.

She walked quickly across the lawn, but before she could set foot on the dock, Alexei's speedboat roared away.

As Lila boarded the sailboat, she noticed that Dylan's face looked flushed, as if he'd just been in an argument.

“Who was that guy?” she asked.

“You haven't had the displeasure of meeting Alexei Dortzovich yet?” Dylan replied. There was an angry edge to his voice.

“Just once,” Lila said, “at the club one afternoon. What were you guys talking about?”

“Nothing.” He set about the complicated task of getting the sailboat away from the dock and out into the sea.

Lila decided to drop the subject for now. Instead, she picked up the bottle of champagne chilling in a silver wine cooler. “Should I open this?” she asked, which finally got a smile out of Dylan.

“No, let me. Here, you grab the wheel. Just keep us heading straight.”

She should have kept her eye on the horizon, but she couldn't help but watch Dylan as he moved along the deck, grabbing two champagne flutes, popping the cork, and pouring them each a glass. She wanted to laugh out loud. She never thought real life could look like this.

“So, why didn't you return my call?” Dylan asked as the boat sliced through the waters. He had taken back the steering wheel after Lila proved more interested in watching him than watching the waves.

“I've got a lot on my plate right now,” she said, taking a large sip of champagne.

“Camilla,” Dylan said softly. “I like being with you, and I hope you feel the same.”

She nodded yes. It was undeniable. Something about him made Lila feel that she could finally exhale, live, be her real self.

“Good,” he said. His face lit up into a smile, one she couldn't help but return.

Dylan grabbed Lila's hand and pulled her to him, swinging her around so that her hands were on the steering wheel and he was standing behind her. She leaned back against him, and he pressed his lips into the top of her head. Then Dylan moved his hand down her side to the soft of her belly. She turned to face him and they kissed. As their kiss grew deeper, her thoughts fluttered away like a flock of birds scattering suddenly into the air.