Loving Grace (13 page)

Seth seemed pretty calm, chilled out, in his
usual khaki trousers, brown shoes and a casual shirt that hugged
his brawn, and enhanced the blue in his eyes. The window was down,
mussing his blond hair that was getting lighter from the sun. He
wore sunglasses and whistled along with his CD of seventies hits.
Generally, Seth impressed Grace with his composure.

“Park there.” She pointed to a space by a
chain link fence she’d used before.

Seth did, eyeing the massive building. Once
out of the car he said, “What’s a guy do with that much room? I’ll
bet the acoustics are tight.”

“They are,” she muttered and preceded him up
the grid stairs. She told him how the upper room had been laid out
before the investigation. “It’s pretty empty now.”

“I’ll bet.”

She pushed the buzzer, the door slid open,
and she heard Seth mutter something about piss-poor security before
they stepped inside.

At the far end, bright sun came through the
massive window. Seth looked around as they walked toward Noel, who
was leaning against the steel window frame, half facing them as he
sipped his coffee and watched them approach.

Her brother glanced at her when they were a
foot from Noel. What he was thinking? Grace couldn’t guess, but she
supposed it was a bit of surprise at her taste, since Noel wore
those old ragged Levis with no shirt or shoes and still had the
scruff of a growing beard on his face. He looked like he just
crawled out of bed.

“Noel Hawthorn, this is my brother. Seth
Dean.”

Seth stepped up. They shook hands. Grace
noticed, like men will do, they took each other’s measure before
Seth stepped back.

“Help yourself to coffee,” Noel said, polite,
but Grace felt his eyes on her.

They had coffee and stood a moment before
Seth walked over to look down at the view, and with ease, engaged
Noel in a conversation about it.

Grace half sat on the table edge facing them
and the window, listening to her brother. She admired his mature
openness. He was used to getting people to talk, putting them at
ease, but for all sorts of reasons and she was pleased that he had
that talent now.

At least with Seth, Noel wasn’t sarcastic and
cutting. He was polite and even laughed when Seth said something
amusing. At one point her brother was leaning against the opposite
side, talking, sipping from a mug, and Noel was answering. But he
was looking right at her. She held his gaze a long time, watching
the morning sun lighten the chill he had given her the last
time.

During a pause Grace said, “I’ve brought some
copies of the itemized statements for you.” She took them out of
her briefcase and lay them on the table.

He ambled over to flip through them, standing
close enough for Grace to smell his scent, his manly soap and to
feel his warmth.

She was aware her brother had turned, was
watching them silently. Noel glanced at her. “And this proves?”

“So far? It proves you took nothing from
those first sales. That Elise did tell you she needed that to pay
for the loan she’d supposedly gotten to pay for the gallery.”

“How’d you know that?”

“It’s deduction. You thought they were
running your business. According to Crumm, there are papers you
signed when you bought it. Elise had already paid it off, of
course. Using drug money. But you didn’t know that.”

“It’s still the same money.” He shook his
head. “Every painting that sold to a drug dealer, every profit that
bought drugs that they sold here or packaged with the paintings,
it’s all dirty money.”

“Not to your knowledge it wasn’t. We’re not
talking about the criminal aspect right now. I’m establishing the
fact you weren’t profiting from that money. That you didn’t throw
paint on canvas just to mask drugs you were transporting. The
biggest expenses you had were the rent on this space and the
engagement ring. Those you paid for personally.”

His jaw flexed. He stared at her, saying
abruptly, “And paying my models.”

Grace flushed and glanced over to find her
brother staring at her. Uncomfortably she looked back at Noel.
“I’ll explain it. But the truth could hurt your case, whereas
this...” she tapped the paper, “can help it. I can’t be an unbiased
accountant, and a model who worked with you too, in the eyes of a
jury.”

Her gaze was open. “This is what I do.
Between my brother and me, we’re both good at our jobs. I can find,
present, and dig up evidence that helps clear you.” Her glance
skittered away, she said more softly, “Consider that, before you
care more about me lying about my name and modeling for you.” She
chewed her lip “If that painting is still here, you can destroy
it.”

“The prosecution has that list of models too,
Grace.”

Her gaze jerked to his. “One name, one person
they can’t find.”

He stared. “A lot of lies. You set up meeting
me. You planned on—”

“No. How could I know you’d want to paint
someone like me? I did go there. I did watch you, I did...” She
looked at her brother and shrugged, not sure how to explain the
photos.

Seth walked over to break some of the tension
between them. “Let’s get business out of the way. You two can hash
that out afterwards. I’ve got my two cents to put in too.” He
looked at Noel. “Plain speaking, your ass is in the fire, Hawthorn.
You think Elise and Bryce’s lawyers are going to focus on the
drugs? No, they’re going to deflect and manipulate evidence, and
bring up anything about your character or life that smacks of seedy
or greedy.”

Noel stared back at him. “I thought your
report proved I wasn’t screwing around.”

“So what? That’s a couple of months out of
all your life. As much as they’ve done, as much as you might still
feel, you know something about her, besides her screwing
Bryce.”

“I didn’t know about that.” Noel walked back
to the window, leaving brother and sister to exchange a look. Grace
sat down and pretended to look in her briefcase while her brother
followed Noel. She could hear them perfectly.

“Did you sleep with any of the models?”

“No. Not after we got engaged.”

“You straight? No perversions, drugs?”

“Some people consider my paintings perverse.”
Noel snorted.

“Yeah well, we’re not talking taste in art
here. We’re talking about anything that smears your character.”

Grace was staring blindly at the sheet of
paper when Noel muttered, “My father thought male artists were gay.
Even ones who painted nude women.”

“No shit.”

“Yea. But, anyway. That’s a lifestyle choice,
which unless you’re conservative, shouldn’t matter, right? I did
some mild drugs over the years. Nothing with Elisa.”

“So you two had normal sex, no S &
M?”

“Is this relevant?”

“Everything is, Hawthorn.”

“Straight sex. She held out. Now, I know
why.”

“Yeah, well, we all get screwed over. I’ve
had my share. So she was using you all the way around. Using your
talent and the Gallery. You were making the money she bought drugs
with. She transported them in your crates, but you only saw the
profits from the sale of the paintings?”

“Pretty much.”

“No pretty much to it. She and Bryce were
probably lovers when you met her in Paris.”

“That’s Crumm’s theory.”

Grace heard her brother’s voice even out. “We
all play the fool more than we’d like. Sometimes it gets deeper
than we realize, until after it’s over. This is serious shit. You
can’t worry about how gullible or foolish you might look. You’re a
man serious about his art. You got took. The sooner you accept
that, the sooner your pride can move aside and let you focus on
this case. The Feds don’t play, Hawthorn. They want you to be
guilty.”

“I can’t give you something I don’t have. I’m
sure there are affairs. There’s things you could find I’ve
forgotten about. I’m sure there’s more to Elisa and Bryce than I
know.”

“Grace.”

At her brother’s sigh Grace carefully stood,
closed her briefcase, and placed it on the edge of the table. Both
men were looking at her, but she told Noel, “I took pictures when I
came here. Pictures of you. Just one each time, standing at the
easel. But I took some at the Gallery. I followed Elisa and Bryce.
Those pictures are not among the ones my brother turned over. I
possess two photos of them meeting in the back of the gallery, one
in which they are actually handling the crate lid, another of a man
in a running suit. Seth has been trying to enhance and identify
that man through his sources.”

“Why?”

“I was curious. I was reluctantly watching
someone at a club for Seth. He’d broken his foot and needed some
evidence. It wasn’t my thing. I didn’t want to go. However, I went
to a club and I heard the three of you talking; you, Bryce and
Elisa. I liked the sound of your voice.” She flushed. There it was,
her stupid reason.

Those brown eyes were staring into hers. “So
you followed me. Spied?”

Grace chewed her lip, feeling like the idiot
she’d been. “After that I saw you on TV. Then Seth mentioned Elisa
had hired him. I— I don’t know what pushed me, but I was curious
about her too. More so after I saw her and Bryce in the back of the
Gallery, going in after security locked up.”

His jaw tightened. “You saw them together.
Knew they were lovers?’

“I suspected, yes. Eventually, I knew.”

He gave nothing away with his steady stare.
“So what was it about? Why invade my privacy, my trust, and take
pictures of me?”

Grace felt sweat break out and she couldn’t
look at Seth, because she was really mortified at what she’d done.
Though Seth knew the truth, she hated that he witnessed this part.
“I don’t know.”

Noel stared at her as the sounds of birds
mingled with distant traffic and a siren. “Why’d you lie at that
point, before all of this?”

“Because, this is me, my work, my character,
what I do. That wasn’t, me. I acted the complete opposite of my
usual self. Seth can attest to that. I got myself in a situation,
for reasons I don’t completely understand, nor do they make sense.
That whole two weeks was as if I’d stepped into another person’s
skin, as if I stepped out of my routine and my rigid life,
everything I did, including the pictures,
was...is...unexplainable.”

“Grace is a conservative woman,” Seth cut in.
“Tweed and London Fog, that’s her. She don’t club, party, and she
don’t date. Grace is a workaholic, would rather be playing with
numbers than watching a movie. I’ve always teased that she’s stuffy
and boring and...”

“All right.” Grace smiled at him over her
nervousness. “No need to get carried away.”

He bit his lip and winked. “Sorry, Grace.
This is hell for you. I know.”

He said it so soft and with so much
understanding that she swallowed but looked back at Noel.

Seth got in one last point, “Grace is also
intelligent, level headed, cool under pressure and a very private,
reserved person.”

Grace told Noel, “I can turn over those
photos and give a written account of what took place. I stand the
chance of being called to testify too when your whereabouts are in
question. I can do that. I will, if that’s what you want.” She
sighed and looked between the men, out the window. “Or I can do
what I was hired to, and give Crumm the evidence he needs to prove
you weren’t profiting from drugs, that Elise and Bryce were.”

There was silence a long time. Noel walked to
the window, while Seth gave Grace’s shoulder a squeeze before he
sat down at the table and propped his foot in the opposite
chair.

After some time Noel said, “Does Crumm have a
copy of that statement?”

“I sent it to him first, yes. Whatever I
uncover goes to him.”

“What’s your deal in this, Seth?” Noel asked.
He braced his hand on the sill and stared down at the alleyway.

“Getting to any dirt on you before they do.
Gathering information about their activities during the time,
you’ve lived here. The places they met, how they lived, what they
bought and whom they talked to. Hopefully, local street
dealers.

I follow their footprints just like Grace
follows the money. I help prove they spent above what they took as
salary from you, and I prove they were intimate enough to conspire
to set you up, that they manipulated you. Elisa did. She set up the
press conferences, only gave you the messages, only let the
people—buyers— talk to you that she wanted. She was smart enough to
mingle the legit buyers with the drug dealers. She’s the
mastermind; Bryce is the snake in the grass. He’s a smooth
character that comes out like a fat cat. Gets the woman, the money,
the fancy clothes and toys, and doesn’t do shit but look good and
talk slick.”

“I’ll call you.”

Grace stared at Noel who’d turned.

“I’ll talk to Crumm first.”

Grace glanced at Seth. They knew Crumm might
very well trade one piece of evidence for another if he thought it
was the stronger of the two.

Seth shrugged. They had expected it,
discussed the possibility.

Grace got her things together and walked out
while Seth was still talking, making his own arrangements to meet
again with Noel.

Chapter Sixteen

Grace sat in the park under the branches of a
massive oak tree. She’d driven further out into the suburbs early
that morning, taking only her cell phone and a light picnic lunch.
It was a mild seventy-three degrees and though most city dwellers
weren’t outdoorsy, the day brought joggers, parents with kids and
kites, and couples to the park lying on blankets reading, or
strolling with their dogs.

She ate a sandwich, brushing the crumbs off
her LL Bean shorts, and smiled wryly. Seth would comment about her
summer wardrobe that had just arrived via UPS. Tan shorts, blue
shorts, beige tank tops, white and yellow ones, and what he called
her Hush Puppy walking shoes. Yes, she was a boring woman with a
bland sense of style, and her hair was growing longer but she’d
actually French braided it today.