Chapter Three: Of Cretins and Art
"Ah, Isobella," the man said with a fake Italian accent. Standing from his chair he came around the desk to greet his latest client. And what a strange client she was—beautiful, but strange.
"Andrew," Max replied with a pasted on smile as he kissed her hand. Cringing inwardly, Max tried to remind herself why she put up with cretins like Andrew Martel. "I hear you have a new painting for me."
"Of course," Andrew nodded, "another one came on the market this morning. Langdon called me as soon as the owner had left the building." Andrew stepped away from Max and ushered her down the hall to the showing room.
While Martel's didn't look like it did much business to the outside observer, it was actually a bustling art market for the elite. There were three showing rooms within the building; the main showroom was used only when having public viewing while the other two held paintings and various sculptures. Max had become quite familiar with the place during the last few months, as Logan had been liquidating his assets to finance his project.
Stopping at the closed door, Max cast a disdainful look at Martel who finally took the hint and opened the door to allow her inside. Glancing around the room, Max appraised the paintings stored within.
Most were originals, some were very good reproductions and others were badly forged but all carried expensive stickers and Martel's certificate of authentication.
One thing could be said about Martel, he may be a cheat but he was a very good cheat. If someone took their loving artwork to be appraised and found out it was nothing more than a canvas with some cheap paint on it, Martel was there all sad and sympathetic with his patents. He was smarter than most, having patents going back six owners instead of the usual three, that way when he did get caught he looked the part of the fool as well, but a fool with an all-sales final guarantee.
Max smiled at the Monet that had once hung prominently in the living room of Logan's apartment. "Absolutely beautiful. Three thousand?"
Martel looked at her in bewilderment, "Three thousand? Are you kidding, it's worth three times that on the open market."
"That's only if you didn't meet with a little accident while you were crossing the street," Max said, her face devoid of expression.
"That's…" Andrew started, his face pale.
"Blackmail," Max agreed, "yes, I know." Looking at the painting, Max opened the brown satchel she was carrying and removed a pre-packaged bundle of money. "I won't go a penny over five."
Swallowing hard, Andrew nodded rapidly taking the proffered cash from her hand. "It's always a pleasure doing business with you." Without taking the time to count the money, he signaled for two men to prepare the painting for transport. "Am I sending this to the usual address?"
"Yes," Max replied, as she withdrew a smaller amount of money from her satchel and handed it to him. "As always, I appreciate your discreetness in my acquisitions."
"I'm always happy to accommodate a client."
"Please remember to call, day or night, if a piece from the Cale collection comes up for sale."
"Of course," Martel smiled for the cameras. "Ciao, Bella."
Gracing him with a smile of her own, Max walked out of the room heading for the glass doors that would allow her to breathe fresh air instead of the over-perfumed air of Martel's.
Glancing at the expensive watch adorning her wrist, Max figured she would have enough time to change her clothes before needing to open the doors for the transporters at the storage facility where the rest of Logan's collection was already housed. To anyone on the street, Max looked as if she belonged in the ritzy district. From the string of pearls around her neck to the Versace pantsuit, right down to her four-inch Italian imported heels, she was every bit the snotty little rich bitch. What would Logan think if he saw me in this, Max thought as she climbed on her motorcycle and hurried off to change.
Author's Notes: Thank you so much for reading and your notes of encouragement. Updates for this story will be few and far between as I am going through a rather rough time in my life. My father lost his fight with PNH on Monday - - and while writing is a good way to work through the grief process, my heart just isn't in it - - if it is not too much to ask, please keep my family in your prayers. Thank you and God bless you.