Cold Heart (37 page)

‘But you love her anyway?’ Lorraine said.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘I love her – I’d walk on hot coals for her.’ He spoke quietly and directly, looking Lorraine straight in the face, and she knew that his anger had passed and that he was telling her the simple truth. ‘I waited fifteen years to get her back from that asshole Nathan, and I knew he still had part of her, maybe the deepest part, but I can wait another fifteen years to get that back too. It’ll end. I know it will.’

Though it certainly didn’t show any sign of ending any time soon, Lorraine thought privately. Another raft of speculation floated into her mind. Could Arthur have killed Nathan? Either because Sonja had asked him to, or out of a belief that while he was alive, Sonja would never get over her obsession with him?

‘Were you still in contact with Sonja and Nathan when he bought the gallery?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Arthur said, ‘I couldn’t stand to see her with him – couldn’t stand to see her being fooled by him. And I was damned if I was going to hang around like the bad fairy, having lunch with Sonja once a month and hoping Nathan’d get hit by a truck. The way fucking Vallance did.’

‘Do you still see Vallance?’

‘Not if I can avoid it.’

Lorraine changed tack. ‘Did Sonja mention to you what I came out here to investigate?’ she asked.

‘Not really. She just said you were tracing some assets belonging to the estate.’

‘Well, I am, in a way,’ said Lorraine. ‘She seems very detached about it all – I mean, she gets the house, and anything I can trace will go to her too.’

‘She’ll never live in that place again,’ Arthur said. ‘I don’t think she cares much about the money either – she has other assets of her own.’

‘You probably know that Harry Nathan’s major asset was supposed to be his art collection,’ Lorraine said, and thought that a trace of tension entered Arthur’s manner.

‘Oh, really?’ he said. ‘I hadn’t given it a lot of thought.’

‘Well, it turns out that the major pieces in the collection were acquired by fraud. He and Kendall Nathan sold various paintings to people with no experience of the art market, then delivered fakes. Kendall thought all the real stuff was hanging in Nathan’s house, but it seems that he pulled the same move again on her. All his own collection was fake too.’

‘Serves her right,’ Arthur said.

‘Did you meet her?’ Lorraine asked.

‘Just once or twice,’ Arthur said coolly. ‘So, you’re trying to trace the paintings?’

Lorraine nodded. ‘That or the profits of the sale. Nathan used a lot of aliases, and he must have had secret bank accounts.’

‘Well, they could be anywhere by now,’ Arthur said. ‘People buy hot art work and keep it in a cellar for thirty years.’

‘But the money must be somewhere,’ Lorraine persisted.

‘Well, he was a film producer, wasn’t he? Surely the quickest way to make a lot of money disappear in LA is to pour it into some godawful movie. Nathan’s career was in trouble, wasn’t it?’

‘Maybe I’ll ask Feinstein to go through the books at Maximedia again,’ Lorraine said. ‘Though I’m sure he’ll already have done so pretty thoroughly.’

‘Or, of course, Nathan could have had other production companies.’ Arthur seemed to be pushing this hypothesis, and though it was plausible enough, Lorraine wondered whether he might be trying to lead her down a blind alley – away from his beloved Sonja – and she moved back into the terrain where her true suspicions lay.

‘Sonja didn’t keep in touch with Harry after they divorced?’ she asked carefully. ‘I mean, she told me she didn’t, but I wondered whether maybe she continued to see him from time to time – maybe didn’t want you to know. Did you ever suspect anything like that was going on?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Arthur said evenly, and Lorraine was reminded of the housekeeper, Juana, that an unshakeable loyalty stood between her and the truth. He had already said that Sonja periodically took off, that often he did not know where she was or where she had been. ‘If you’re looking to trace off-record contacts of Nathan’s in the art world, I’d start with his brother,’ he went on.

‘I saw a guy with a ponytail at the funeral, looked like Nathan. Was that him?’

‘Yes, there were only the two of them, Harry and Nick. The mother had a weird relationship with them both.’

‘Is Nick a dealer?’ Lorraine asked.

‘No,’ Arthur said. ‘He’s a painter.’

That was interesting. Lorraine had felt she was getting nowhere with the case, but this sounded like the missing puzzle piece she had been searching for. She could have kicked herself for not investigating Nathan’s family earlier – it was extraordinary how often what you were looking for was right under your nose. ‘Was he any good?’ she asked.

Arthur looked out of the window. ‘Not bad – erratic, spoiled, a hysteric. Nick was very like Harry, you know, always in search of himself, and it showed in a sporadic, slapdash quality in his work. He was reasonably talented, but he would get into deep depressions. He wanted fame and fortune, but then he would switch styles to accommodate a buyer. He had a number of faithful collectors, but a few thousand dollars here and there couldn’t keep him and the woman he always had in tow – can’t recall her name.’

‘Do you know where I can find him?’ she said.

‘Nope – he took off with the woman to Santa Fe. I don’t think he and Kendall got on – she was jealous of everyone close to Harry, you know, kind of eased them out one by one.’

‘Who do
you
think killed Harry Nathan?’ Lorraine asked. She figured it was worth asking everyone who had known him. It couldn’t do any harm.

Arthur turned away. ‘I should have.’

‘But you didn’t, did you?’

‘No,’ he said simply.

A waiter suddenly appeared to tell Lorraine that there was a call for her. She excused herself to go and take it, knowing that the thread of the conversation had now been broken, and that she had lost Arthur.

The call was from Feinstein. Lorraine told him curtly that she now had a lead on the forger and would be following it up.

When she returned to the dining room, Arthur was on his feet. ‘I have to go,’ he said. ‘I must get back to her. Thanks – it was nice talking to you, and I hope you have a good trip back.’

Lorraine went up to her room to collect her bag, leaving her door slightly open. Outside she heard the voice of Raymond Vallance’s ladyfriend, and listened carefully.

‘Did you book a table?’ She must be talking about lunch: it was after twelve o’clock now, Lorraine realized.

‘Sure.’ That was Vallance.

‘You certainly took your goddamned time. I’ve been sitting up here in this hideous fucking place.’ She seemed very much in charge – no wonder, since presumably she was picking up the bill. ‘I wanna eat and then check out. I want to stay at the America Hotel in Sag Harbor. Book us in there.’

‘This is one of the best hotels in East Hampton, for God’s sake. I know the people here, and there’s nothing wrong with the room, but if that’s what you want . . .’ Vallance sounded bored.

‘Yes, it is, and as I’m paying, there won’t be any argument, will there? Now let’s go down and eat.’

‘Do you mind if I just freshen up?’ Vallance snapped.

‘Fine, I’ll see you in the dining room.’

Lorraine inched towards her door as the door to the next room banged shut and the large blonde woman walked past. Lorraine hesitated: should she talk to Vallance about Nathan’s brother? Then she heard his voice again: he was clearly talking on the phone.

‘Sonja? Don’t hang up.’ His voice was cajoling. ‘Just hear me out. I’d really like for us to meet, just for old times’ sake. I mean, Harry’s dead now, and that hurts both of us. I know he’d hate to think of us being this way with one another.’ His voice was syrupy, nauseating. ‘Can’t we just call it all quits now he’s gone? I’d just like to see you for a few minutes.’ There was a pause, during which Vallance presumably listened to Sonja’s response. ‘Sure, sure – let me give you my mobile number.’ He dictated a number, then a moment later, Lorraine heard his voice rise in surprise. ‘Sonja?’ She had hung up.

Lorraine felt the familiar quickening of her pulse, an impulse to shadow Vallance and go after him if he went after Sonja, the old thrill of the chase. She knew, though, that she would have to put it aside: it was not what she was paid to do, and Sonja and Arthur would find any further contact from her an intrusion. Besides, she would have to start resisting the urge to seek, to follow, to know, if she intended taking up a career as a cupcake baker and maybe . . . Well, maybe something else.

She smiled, thinking of Jake, and the home and family she hoped they would have together: her place was back in LA. But now she was still working for Feinstein, and she had every intention of winding up the case professionally. At least it looked like coming to an end – it seemed too much of a coincidence that Nathan’s brother happened to be a starving artist who perhaps wouldn’t be averse to making a little money on the wrong side of the law. Arthur had had no idea how to find him, but it was worthwhile asking Vallance what he knew.

After a few more minutes she heard his door open and stepped out of her room. ‘Mr Vallance?’ she called. ‘I thought I heard your voice.’

He stared at her, locking his door. ‘Well, well, Mrs Page.’

‘Could I have ten minutes of your time, Mr Vallance?’

‘No, it’s not convenient. I’m meeting a producer for lunch.’

‘Well, can’t you call down and tell them you’ll be there in ten minutes? It won’t take any longer.’

He glared at her, his Cupid’s-bow lips pursed into a thin line of anger. ‘I don’t think I like your attitude, Mrs Page. Just who the hell do you think you are? I don’t have to talk to you, you’re not with the police, and I know the case has been closed. You have no right to question me.’ He started to walk away.

‘Apparently Harry Nathan had millions salted away in a secret bank account, and his lawyer has retained me to try to trace it,’ Lorraine called after him. ‘If you could help me in any way, I am sure that he would come to some arrangement.’

That stopped Vallance in his tracks. Lorraine leaned against the door frame, watching him thinking about what she had just said. ‘I can’t see how I can help you.’

‘Well, why don’t we just sit down for a few minutes and see? You never know, Mr Vallance, there might be something, and if there is, Mr Feinstein will be generous.’

‘Ten minutes,’ he agreed.

Vallance followed Lorraine into her room and she shut the door behind them. He didn’t sit down, but wandered around the room, clicking keys.

‘Have you any idea where Harry Nathan’s brother Nick is?’ she asked.

‘God, no. Last I heard he went to some hippie commune in Santa Fe.’

Lorraine tapped her notebook. ‘How good a painter was he?’

‘I have no idea. Sonja bought some of his work, I think.’

‘Do you know anything else about him – or about the rest of the family?’

‘Nick was totally unstable, and Harry behaved pretty bizarrely when he and Nick were together, screaming and giggling like ten-year-olds.’ Once again, Lorraine heard an unmistakable note of jealousy. ‘The mother doted on both of them, wanted them to stay little kids for ever, but the father was different – he couldn’t come to terms with Nick. He was a striking man, the father . . .’ Vallance paused, and laid a languid finger against his brow. ‘But I was never that interested in Harry’s family.’

‘Just him,’ Lorraine said softly, and Vallance turned, a glint in the famous wide-set eyes.

‘He was the only one who was worth it.’

‘I’m investigating a possible art fraud Harry and Kendall seem to have been pulling out of the gallery—’

‘You mean Kendall was pulling,’ Vallance cut in. ‘Harry would never have thought up anything like that on his own, but she was as crooked as they come.’

‘What do you know about the gallery?’

Vallance turned his mouth down and lifted his shoulders. ‘I went once or twice, more, I suppose, to show my face for them when they had an exhibition. Artists need press like everyone else, and I’d bring in as many faces as I could, but I didn’t have the finances to buy anything from them.’

Lorraine opened her notebook and began to read out the names of some well-known film stars, part of the list of people who had bought paintings she now knew to be fakes. She flicked a glance at Vallance as he nodded at name after name. ‘So you introduced buyers too?’

‘Yes.’

‘Were you paid a commission for doing it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you know any of these other names?’ Lorraine mentioned producers, bankers and other professionals who had been approached by Feinstein with the suggestion that they have their paintings revalued. Vallance nodded only occasionally, and she ticked each name he acknowledged, but his contacts had mostly been the show-business buyers.

‘Do you know who Nathan’s contacts would have been in the banking world, for example?’

‘No, that was Kendall’s department. She made sure she knew anyone who might have the cash to cough up for her art.’

‘How about any contacts in Europe?’

He twisted his keys. ‘She made it her business to know foreign buyers. She was a real nose to the grindstone, in the early days I think because she could see Harry more by making the gallery her life. But she was a hustler by nature.’

‘Did he ever mention any banking facilities he used, either here or in Europe?’

‘No.’

‘But he did travel abroad a lot. Did you go with him?’

‘No, but during the past year he went away a lot. Just a week here or there, though he’d never take Cindy. Maybe Kendall went – I’ve no idea. But you’re not much of an investigator if you haven’t checked his passport – surely that’ll tell you where he was sliding off to.’

‘It doesn’t. As he used so many aliases to open the bank accounts we’ve traced so far, we can only presume he also had a number of passports in different names.’

‘Well, that’s quite possible. Harry had picked up a few unsavoury friends along the way – I kept my distance from them.’

‘Can you think of anyone in the art world who might have been working with him in the last few months before he died? Not Kendall, someone else.’